Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been raining for two days straight. The weather was cold and rather miserable. And somewhat foreboding. Flavio couldn’t explain why, but ever since he gotten up that morning, he felt as if something significant was going to happen.

And he couldn’t help but fear the worse.

Moving toward the guild-house with the selection of items they needed to place in storage, Flavio felt a his eyes widen in surprise, a gasp lodging in his throat at the sight he had encountered as he turned a corner. He knew something terrible was to happen, but he wasn’t ready for what he was seeing.

Fafnir, with his back toward him, had Arianna wrapped up tightly, intimately, in his arms, the purple-haired princess resting comfortably against his chest as she stood upon tiptoes. Their heads were angled toward each other’s. Flavio couldn’t see them completely, but their positions, the angling of their bodies, and the sense of intimacy in the air.

They were…They had to be…

The tray of storage items he had been holding suddenly slipped from his unknowingly trembling hands and crashed loudly onto the floor, sending the contents sprawling in all directions. The noise was deafening, so it immediately caused the two to spring apart, instinctively pulling themselves in defensive positions.

Fafnir immediately spun around to face him, at first an expression of annoyance on his face. However, his expression soon lifted into that of surprise.

A tense and deafening silence quickly fell over them.

Flavio ordered himself to say something. To make a joke. To move and pat Fafnir on the back, and congratulate him. Do something. Anything. He had been preparing for this day. He knew it would happen. But...all he could do was stare at Fafnir and Arianna with wide eyes, his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

He felt…sick. Nauseated. Unsteady on his feet.

"Flavio?"

His chest hurt. He could barely breathe.

“S-sir Flavio?”

The next thing Flavio knew, he had turned on his heel and desperately ran outside into the cold rain. He didn't feel the cold, though. Didn't feel how the cool rain took his breath away. All he could think to do was run.

It was…so stupid of him. He had never ran away from anything before in his life (monsters and foes not included). So why was he running away now? He was only making things worse. He was only hurting Fafnir with his immaturity.

But he couldn’t help it. Seeing…seeing Arianna in Fafnir’s arms like that…No…It hurt too much.

…He wanted that to be him.

Did Arianna know how lucky she was?

Pushing past the other occupants in the streets, ignoring those around him, Flavio just kept running. The rain did little to slow him down, despite slipping on a few occasions. He didn’t stop until he reached the beautiful water fountain in the east side of town.

Flavio panted as he leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He stared down at the ground in front of him with wide eyes. His hair clung to his forehead as he watched with an unblinking gaze the rain drops hit the puddles pooling on the ground, watching the ripples in a mesmerised state.

His chest felt tight, his lungs burning. His vision was blurry from tears. When did he start crying? He was a trained survivalist. He shouldn’t be crying! How pathetic…

Pushing himself to stand up straight, he rubbed at his eyes. Even though he knew it was futile, he kept rubbing them, mixing his tears with the rain.

The rain was cold, heavy, and constant. But he didn’t really register any of it. The feel, the scent, the sound. Nothing.

What was wrong with him? Why was he acting so stupid? He should be...supportive. Understanding. Encouraging. That was what he was meant to do. He always knew that one day Fafnir wouldn't need him anymore. He always knew that one day Fafnir and Arianna would become a couple. Princesses and knights always received their Happily Ever Afters. In all the story books the princess and knight would marry. That was what everyone expected. That was the way things simply were.

He...never stood a chance.

And that hurt.

“Flavio!”

Flavio felt a sob hitch in his throat when he heard loud footsteps approaching him from behind. Oh no. Of course Fafnir would chase him out into the rain. Unintentionally hurting him more with his concern. Why? Why did he have to be so…? He wasn’t ready for this yet.

“Flavio?”

Hunching his shoulders, Flavio folded his arms around himself and purposely turned his back to Fafnir. He couldn’t face him. He didn’t want Fafnir to see how pathetic and pitiful he was.

“Flavio, look at me.”

Flavio shook his head adamantly. No, he couldn’t do that. It would only hurt more.

“Go back to the restaurant, Fafnir,” Flavio murmured, somewhat surprised by how hoarse and strained his voice sounded. “You’ll catch a cold out in this rain.”

"I don't know what you think you saw, but that wasn't it," Fafnir suddenly said to him.

Despite himself, despite the way his stomach knotted at the false sense of hope, Flavio felt a laugh slip past his lips. "Sure, Fafnir."

He heard a sound, akin to a growl of frustration when Fafnir suddenly stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm. Fafnir then spun him around abruptly and pulled him into his arms, crushing him against his chest. Flavio immediately parted his lips to utter a sound of surprise as he fell limply within Fafnir’s hold. He soon began to struggle, however. He didn’t want a pity embrace. Things were hard enough as they were.

Flavio, however, abruptly ceased in his struggling when Fafnir’s slipped his hand around the back of his head and pressed his lips against his. For the longest moment, all rational thought left him. Only the sensation of Fafnir’s lips against his, kissing him slowly and softly, flooded his brain.

Was…he dreaming?

Keeping his arms around him tightly, almost as if ensuring that he didn’t run away again, Fafnir pulled back from the kiss and looked at him. The rain continued to thunder around them as Fafnir stared into his eyes, his gaze firm yet oddly tender, too. It took all that Flavio had not to tear his own eyes away from the man in front of him.

“I turned her down,” Fafnir unexpectedly said to him.

Flavio drew in a sharp breath as his heart all but skipped a beat. He wasn’t sure he heard right. Did that mean…?

“Arianna is a sister to me,” Fafnir continued as he raised his hand to gently caress the side of Flavio’s face. “I was only comforting her. That’s all.”

Goosebumps run up his spine as he released a shuddering breath. He…didn’t know what to say. Fafnir was telling the truth, right? He wouldn’t lie to him.

He didn’t know how to verbally respond. Honestly, he felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Instead of doing either, he lifted his hands and gently touched the sides of Fafnir’s face. Slowly, Flavio pulled Fafnir toward him and brought his lips against his once again. He encircled his arms around Fafnir’s neck tightly when Fafnir immediately wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling and holding him closer. He felt tears pool along his lashes once more, but they were from relief.

They were both soaked to the bone from the rain, but neither of them cared. They were too wrapped up in each other to care about what was happening around them. Honestly, though, the rain was somewhat…comforting. The sound was soothing and the feel somehow ensuring. It encased them, surrounded them.

However…

“It’s freezing out here,” Fafnir murmured against Flavio’s lips as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Let’s head to the inn and get warm.”

It was only then that Flavio realised how cold he truly was and shivered. “Ok,” he murmured in reply as he pressed himself against Fafnir’s side, allowing him to escort him to the inn.

He would have to apologise to Arianna about his abrupt actions, but that could wait. He just needed to be with Fafnir for a little bit longer.

Chapter Text

Expectations

In all honesty, if Bertrand had to choose between visiting the Stickleback Bar and staying at the Regent Café, he would rather be at the bar. No offense to Regina or the restaurant. And, sure, the bar was nosy and filled with people, but it allowed him to sit on the sidelines for a while, and simply watch and observe. He wasn’t constantly pressured to have something to eat, either. Again, nothing against Regina’s cooking, but thanks to his own Fafnir Knight ordeal, he didn’t have to eat as often or as much. He could easily sustain himself with a drink or two. And, honestly, that was easier on his stomach.

At the bar, he could simply get a drink, sit in a dark corner somewhere and pretend for an hour or so that his life wasn’t threatening to go to hell in a hand basket thanks to a certain Calamity. People mostly left him alone. Although, Cass did sometimes get up in his face, but the bar-keep was more interested in making as much money as possible so left him alone for the most part.

However, the last few times Bertrand and his guild had visited the bar, they had an unexpected, but not unwelcomed company.

Unexpectedly, it was Chloe who had insisted that Hrothgar (and Wulfgar, too, of course) join them. And she always insisted that Hrothgar sat next to Bertrand with her situated on Bertrand’s other side, pretty much sandwiching him in.

Yup, surprised the hell out of Bertrand, too. But that soon gave way to suspicion. Even Hrothgar, himself, seemed astounded. He, however, would take up their invitation upon Arianna’s added insistence and spend a few hours with them.

Bertrand wasn’t sure what the pink-haired war magus was really up to and whether or not the purple-haired princess was a part of it. He shrugged it off, however. He didn’t mind the redhead’s company anyway.

Hrothgar had little knowledge of the Calamity or the curse of the Fafnir Knight, so their conversations didn’t inevitably lead in that direction. They talked mostly about the labyrinth, but Hrothgar had spoken a few times about his guild. Well, previous guild now. It hurt him to do so, Bertrand could see that. But Hrothgar wanted to keep their memories alive, so he wanted to push past that pain threshold. And he was doing it. He was getting better.

He was a good kid.

Lifting his drink to his lips as he momentarily paused in his conversation with Hrothgar, Bertrand took the moment to glance around at his surroundings. The bar, as per usual, was filled to the brim with locals and explorers alike. Most were only interested in the food, while the veteran explorers were more interested in the alcoholic drinks being served. Nothing like washing away the bitter tang of a few dangerous close encounters in the labyrinth with a stiff drink or two.

Tearing his gaze from the crowds, Bertrand turned his attention to his companions. Due to the crowds of the bar, they had been forced to split in two, occupying two small tables. They were still within sight of each other, though.

Of course, Arianna had immediately tugged Fafnir over to one table. But as she did so, Fafnir reached out to snare Flavio by the elbow in order to tug him along, leaving Bertrand, Chloe, Hrothgar, and Wulfgar to occupy the other table. And to find amusement from the so-called ‘love triangle’ that was happening.

Or would that be a one-sided love triangle? An unrequited love triangle? No, that didn’t sound right either. Hm…

Whatever. Fafnir and Flavio were practically married, anyway, so it didn’t matter.

Sitting on Bertrand’s left was Chloe, who of which was naturally eating from a mound of meat products while the normally stoic Wulfgar was practically drooling on the floor next to her. Normally, the war magus would defend her food with vigour Bertrand wished she would use more often in the labyrinth, but on the odd occasion, she would grant the ebony-furred wolf a piece of meat or two. Mostly the ones covered in vegetables she couldn’t scrape off, though.

On his right was Hrothgar, who of which was once again looking rather astounded that such a small and young girl could eat so much meat in one sitting. He was also trying, and ultimately failing, to remind Wulfgar that it was rude to stare and drool as he was.

Glancing over at the other table a few feet away, Bertrand realised that Arianna and Fafnir had been left alone. Arianna was trying to gain Fafnir’s attention now that it was just the two of them, but the white-haired swordsman was too busy glaring in the direction of the bar.

Flicking his own gaze toward the bar area of the pub, Bertrand snorted slightly to cover up a chuckle. Why was Fafnir glaring? Well, it was pretty obvious why.

Flavio appeared to be trying to retrieve something from the bar, but his journey was hampered due to the fact that he was being accosted by drunken and not-so drunk patrons. They were flirting with him, sending him uncreative and crude pick-up lines, simply being obnoxious drunks. However, whatever they were saying was going straight over Flavio’s head and he was politely rejecting them all.

Hardly a surprise. Curly dark hair in a fluffy ponytail, big blue eyes, friendly appearance, utterly devoted to everyone’s wellbeing and health; honestly, Flavio had no idea how pretty he really was. He would rebuke that, of course, with an indignant cry that he should be seen as ‘handsome’ rather than ‘pretty’. But he lucked out. He was indeed quite pretty.

And, much to Fafnir’s chagrin, a lot of people felt the same way.

But, even if Flavio did know what these drunkards were trying to do, he would still outright reject them all. He was devoted solely to Fafnir, after all. And Fafnir knew that. However, he was still rather protective.

And if the twitch of Fafnir’s right eye was anything to go by, he was also becoming quite irritated. It won’t be long until he could no longer hold back his protective urges towards his ‘friend’ and he would snap. It had happened before, and it would happen again.

It was sure to be entertaining, nonetheless.

Bertrand nudged the redheaded protector next to him. “50en says Fafnir pulls Flavio into his lap.”

Hrothgar looked up at him before letting his gaze flicker over to Fafnir. “Inevitable, yes,” he said as he turned his attention back to Bertrand next to him and gifted him with a small smile. “But the real question is; how will Flavio react to said ‘pulling onto lap’?”

Ah, yes, Flavio’s reaction. The best part. His reactions were always rather amusing. “Yeah. He'll probably shriek with indignity and demand to be placed on his feet.” Bertrand commented.

Hrothgar hummed lightly in thought for a moment. “Hm, I think it's more of Flavio covering his flushed face with his hands while 'secretly' thrilled by it,” he added with a slight chuckle.

“No way,” Chloe unexpectedly piped up, miraculously pausing in her consumption of meat to speak. “Flavio will wrap his arms around Fafnir's shoulders and bury his face into his neck to hide the blush.”

Bertrand and Hrothgar both turned toward the pink-haired war magus, an expression of surprise on Hrothgar’s face while Bertrand simply raised a questioning eyebrow.

Chloe’s large rimmed glasses glinted ominously under the dim lighting of the bar. “Just you see. 50en.”

Bertrand always got a bad feeling whenever Chloe’s glasses glinted ominously like that, but he was also rather curious. That was a reaction he hadn’t seen before. “Yeah, all right,” he uttered as he placed his drink onto the table and reached into his pocket to pull out a small bit of cash.

Next to him, Hrothgar sighed as he, too, reached for his money, placing the gold coins onto the centre of the table.

Chloe was the last the place her bet in and the three of them turned their full attention toward the other members of the Midgard Library guild, waiting in anticipation as Flavio finally made his way through the hordes of drunkards and back to the table where Fafnir and Arianna were.

As soon as Flavio placed down the tray of drinks and snacks upon the table, Fafnir grabbed him by his elbow and roughly pulled him toward him. With a small cry of surprise, Flavio tumbled onto Fafnir’s lap, sitting haphazardly sideways as he pressed one hand against Fafnir’s chest while the other grasped his shoulder as he tried to steady himself. He subconsciously moved even closer toward Fafnir when the white-haired swordsman wrapped an arm tightly around his waist.

Silence seemed to reign supreme over the entire bar as Flavio stared upon Fafnir’s face, of which was only a few inches away from his. Fafnir, however, wasn’t looking at Flavio. He was still glaring at the hordes of drunkards near the bar, silently reminding them that Flavio was indeed very unavailable.

As a blush appeared upon Flavio’s cheeks, across his nose and all the way to his ears, he uttered a soft sound of embarrassment. He then placed his hands over his face, appearing as if Hrothgar had won the bet. However, he unexpectedly and rather abruptly shifted himself upon Fafnir’s lap and then wrapped his arms around his neck and shoulders, burying his cherry-red face against the curve of Fafnir’s neck.

To say that Fafnir looked smug with Flavio clinging to him would be an understatement.

Poor Arianna, though. She was the one who was covering her face with her hands in an attempt to hide and ward off the deep red blush to her cheeks. It wasn’t helping as she was also peeking through her fingers at the two anyway. She was probably torn between feeling jealous and feeling delighted by how cute they were together.

The deafening silence was broken by someone laughing almost hysterically in the background, making a comment or two about how Fafnir would get along well with someone else. Bertrand couldn’t make out any names amongst the chortling and he couldn’t see who was making the racket, but it was almost hard to believe that there was someone as protective as Fafnir was.

“Told ya,” Chloe muttered with a sense of smugness in her voice when the patrons of the bar returned to their own conversations.

“Hm?” Bertrand muttered as removed his gaze from the two still blatantly embracing pair and reached for his drink once more. “I must admit, that went beyond my expectations.”

“Ehehehe, it's all mine,” Chloe laughed almost evilly as she scooped the pile of money toward her. “Flavio's tipsy,” she later added, as if explaining how she knew he would react in such a way.

Hrothgar uttered a noise of understanding. “Ah. Then that means he'll be shrieking about it tomorrow morning.”

Come morning, everyone at the inn was going to know how embarrassed he was.

As he savoured his drink for a moment, Bertrand turned his attention to the protector next to him and idly noticed that he had a soft green leaf hiding amongst his hair.

Without much thought given, Bertrand rested his drink on the table and reached up with his right hand. As his fingers brushed through Hrothgar’s surprisingly soft hair, the redhead stilled with an expression of surprise on his face. He didn’t move though. Didn’t try to turn away and ask him what he was doing. He simply looked at him from the corner of his eye, his breath hitching in his throat.

After a moment or two, Bertrand was able to pull the leaf from Hrothgar’s hair, presenting it to him.

“Found a few shortcuts, did we?” Bertrand asked as he idly twirled the leaf around his fingers.

“Oh, well,” Hrothgar murmured as a light blush appeared across his cheeks and nose, and he smiled softly. “I was showing a young guild a few tricks of the trade.”

Bertrand nodded his head idly as he placed the leaf upon the table in front of Hrothgar. He wasn’t entirely sure why the other protector was blushing, but it was oddly cute. He also couldn’t help but wonder whether or not the redhead would shriek with indignation whenever he was highly embarrassed about something. Now that would be fun.

“...I'll win this bet next.”

“Eeh?” Bertrand uttered as he abruptly pulled himself out of his thoughts and turned his attention to the war magus next to him. “Say something?”

“Nope,” Chloe replied bluntly and in a somewhat pacifying way. However…

Her glasses glinted ominously again.

Chapter Text

Flavio felt winded as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He was in the labyrinth, somewhere in the first stratum. And his chest hurt. He felt as though he had been punched.

With a frown making its way across his lips, Flavio looked down to inspect his armour. Immediately, he noticed that there was a large dint in his armour, indicating that he had indeed been struck in the chest by something. His chest plate, however, had taken the majority of the impact. But what was he hit by?

“Sir Fafnir, please! The battle is over now!”

Snapping his head up upon hearing desperation and panic in Arianna’s voice, Flavio’s gaze immediately fell upon Fafnir. And he felt slightly nauseous.

In his Fafnir Knight Form, Fafnir stood in the middle of the medium sized clearing, his back to them and breathing heavily from physical exertion. And around him lay the bloody remains of several monsters. All of them unmoving. All of them dead.

What had happened…?

“I-I can’t use Displace,” Chloe murmured from behind Bertrand. “I can’t get close enough.”

…Displace? Removal of a status ailment?

Oh, right. Flavio remembered now. They were on the fifth floor and had been surprised by a ragelope. The ragelope itself had been irritated by a vampire bat. They had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The horse-sounding deer immediately lashed out at them, using baffling step. And, of course, other monsters decided to throw themselves into the fray after hearing the distressed sounds the ragelope was creating.

They were essentially ambushed. And surrounded.

Flavio had been the first to suffer a physical attack. Right in front of Fafnir. And then he must have been…

“He’s lost in his own confusion,” Bertrand explained as he kept his shield raised just in case Fafnir did the unpredictable (and, quite frankly, unimaginable in Flavio’s opinion), and sent an attack in their direction. “We’ll just have to wait until he clears it on his own.”

Poor Fafnir. Flavio needed to pull him out of his nightmares. Quickly.

“Where is he?” Fafnir all but howled in a frustrated manner.

“W-who?” Arianna questioned with a fearful tremble in her voice.

Flavio, however, knew who he was looking for. Fafnir was looking for him. He had been struck by an attack just before Fafnir was stunned into confusion. In his mind, the monsters must have hurt him more than reality, and he was looking for him.

“Don’t worry,” Flavio said as he pushed himself to his feet and started his way toward Fafnir. “I’ll take care of this. Just stay back.”

“N-no!” Arianna exclaimed in obvious fear as she stepped in front of him, trying desperately to stop him from continuing. “It’s too dangerous.”

But Flavio gently pushed her aside and continued walking, ignoring the shouts and pleas for him to be careful.

There was no need to be scared. No matter what state of mind Fafnir was in. No matter how angry or upset. Fafnir would never do anything to hurt him. So there was no reason for him to feel even the slightest hint of fear.

None.

Walking slowly and calmly toward Fafnir, Flavio took a moment to take in the sight of him. The muscles in his arms, shoulders, and neck were all taut and strained. His chest heaved as he breathed heavily, growling ever so slightly under his breath as he stared at the unseen monsters before him. His eyes were narrowed, his teeth bared. He looked absolutely vicious.

The sight of him broke Flavio’s heart. Fafnir was powerful, not vicious. He was dangerous to possible threats. And only threats to their lives.

That damn Fafnir Knight Curse. How dare it cause Fafnir so much pain and suffering.

Bypassing his outstretched arms that were tense for battle, Flavio wrapped his arms around Fafnir's neck and rested comfortably against his chest. Fafnir's breathing immediately evened out and he could feel the tension drain from his body. His mind might be filled with confusion because of the spell, but his body responded to Flavio's presence immediately.

Flavio tilted his head to the side slightly to whisper into Fafnir's ear. "I'm here, Fafnir. I'm fine."

Immediately, Fafnir's arms enclosed around him. Embracing him tightly as he held onto him for dear life. The tension drained further still when Fafnir shifted from his Fafnir Knight Form and back to his normal self. It was a relief, to be honest.

“Flavio?” Fafnir muttered, his voice hoarse. “You’re all right?”

“I’m fine,” Flavio said again as he leaned back slightly and placed a chaste kiss to Fafnir’s cheek, reassuring him further. “We all are.”

“What happened?”

Flavio kept his arms around Fafnir’s neck as he glanced over at the array of monster carcases in varies places around the area. They had been slaughtered. Quickly and efficiently.

“You just protected us from a monster ambush,” Flavio said simply. “That’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Fafnir breathed a sigh of relief. “…Ah, good.”

Yeah, absolutely nothing to worry about.

Chapter Text

Bertrand was an old man. He had been around for over a hundred years. He had encountered and experienced many a sight. Some irritating. Some heartbreaking. Some amusing. Some downright frustrating. He had grown detached, dismissive. He could handle just about anything and anyone with a flippant and disconnected attitude. Life and experience had taught him that it was better to be on the sidelines watching than in the middle of all the drama.

He didn’t always succeed, mind. But he tried his best.

There was one thing that was starting to really grate on his nerves, however; Fafnir and Flavio, and their obvious feelings for one another.

Truthfully, Bertrand had initially thought that they were married in secret; all the soft accidental touches, the glances from across the room, knowing what the other was thinking without a word being said.

Imagine his surprise when he realised that, no, they weren’t married. They weren’t even dating. They were just friends. Friends. They both insisted (with blushes, mind you) that they were just friends. No romantic notions. Just best friends.

Bertrand could barely believe it. There were some married couples that don’t act as sickly domesticated and ‘fluffy’ as they do.

At the beginning, it had been amusing, but as days stretched out, it became frustrating. Their mutual pining was becoming almost hysterically obvious. There were some days where Bertrand had to stop himself, fight with every inch of his own strength not to push the two together and demand that they get their damn acts together and confess their undying and unconditional love for each other. For heaven’s sake, it was getting ridiculous.

Today was a prime illustration of the domesticated nonsense that Bertrand had to put up with all the time.

From the time they got up, the two ‘friends’ were courting each other. At daylight, Flavio entered Fafnir’s room to get him up out of bed, pushing the still bleary-eyed swordsman out of his room and down the stairs. Then at breakfast, Fafnir had a bit of his food on his cheek and without rhyme or reason, Flavio leaned across with a napkin and cleaned him up, chiding him for being messy.

Was it any surprise that he had thought they were married?

And then the labyrinth, god, the labyrinth was prime location for all the affection to reveal itself. The way Flavio stuck closer to Fafnir’s side in order to ‘watch his back’. The way Fafnir would fight to his fullest ability when he knew that Flavio had his back. The way Fafnir would become furious whenever a monster managed to get past and land an attack on Flavio. The way Fafnir would immediately share any edible fruit they would find with Flavio first.

Don’t get him started on all of the touching between them. Flavio’s arm around Fafnir’s shoulders. Fafnir’s arm around Flavio’s waist. The celebratory hugs when they defeated a FOE. The poking for attention. The random pats on the back. The reaching out a hand to steady the other even when the other wasn’t unsteady on their feet.

The looks. The whispers. The silent conversations through their eyes alone.

Why couldn’t they see it themselves? Were they blind?

What about when Fafnir had helped them through the narrow shortcut and subconsciously pulled Flavio closer toward him than he had done with anyone else? Closer as in against his chest. Hand resting on the small of Flavio’s back. Flavio’s hands on his shoulders. A smile and a thanks before they parted.

Every. Single. Time.

And whenever Fafnir was speaking with Arianna, his gaze would often wander to where Flavio was, seemingly unaware that Flavio was watching him in return with a slight pout of jealousy on his lips. How Fafnir managed to keep pace with one conversation while his mind and intentions were elsewhere, Bertrand didn't know.

Bertrand had reached his breaking point when some uneducated person made the comment that Fafnir and Arianna would make a cute couple. That, of course, prompted Flavio to become unnervingly quiet and sombre. Even when Fafnir denied it as politely, but anxiously as possible, Flavio simply smiled that infuriatingly polite and fake smile of his and nodded his head. He was hurt, though. His eyes couldn’t hide it.

All this lack of communication was really starting to do Bertrand’s head in. It just wasn’t necessary. They have enough going on without the nonsense of mutual belief of unrequited love. Something needed to be done. And quickly. For his sanity’s sake.

All they really needed was a small push. Or a hard shove into a locked closet. Whatever needed to be done.

As everyone departed to head to their rooms at the inn for the night, Bertrand pulled Flavio aside and took him by the shoulders. He looked straight into his eyes and sternly issued him with an ultimatum. “You have until tomorrow morning to tell Fafnir your undying love for him or I, I swear to god, will do it for you.”

Flavio immediately gaped at him, his mouth opening and closing like some kind of a stunned fish. He then abruptly blushed darkly and appeared as if he so desperately wanted to refute him, deny his words. That was what he did; deny himself of his own thoughts and needs in order to cater to everyone else’s.

Instead, rather surprisingly and unexpectedly, he turned meek. “I can’t…” he whispered.

“If you don’t, I will,” Bertrand reiterated.

Flavio grew pale when he realised that he meant it. “You wouldn’t?”

“Oh, I would,” Bertrand replied, almost threateningly. “And I would be as embarrassing as possible.”

“W-we’re just friends,” Flavio spluttered in reply. “He doesn’t…”

Bertrand gave him a look that was pure, unadulterated scepticism. Really? Did he really believe that? “Tomorrow. Morning.”

Flavio stared at him for the longest, most unnervingly silent moment. “…You’re serious, aren’t you?” he whispered.

Bertrand levelled him with the most serious look he could muster. “Very.”

He removed his hold on Flavio’s shoulders and took a step back, folding his arms across his chest. He did feel a small sense of remorse at the panicky look on Flavio’s face, seemingly on the verge of an anxiety attack. But the survivalist would be thanking him later, he was sure of it.

Hunching his shoulders in defeat, Flavio made his way toward Fafnir’s room at the in. He drew in a deep breath before knocking lightly on the door. “F-Fafnir?”

The door, of course, immediately opened and Fafnir stood there with a look of surprise and concern of his face, expressions he only ever showed openly around Flavio.

Flavio fidgeted on his feet and Bertrand had to resist the urge to shove him into Fafnir’s room and hold the door shut, virtually locking the two inside.

“Can we talk?” he finally requested.

“Sure,” Fafnir said as he stood to the side and motion for Flavio to enter, keeping his gaze on the survivalist the entire time before shutting the door behind him.

Bertrand breathed a sigh that was of both frustration and relief before making his way to his room. He got himself ready for bed, but didn’t climb under the covers. Instead he sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

And waited.

Quite a few minutes had passed and Flavio hadn’t stormed into his room with tears in his eyes and tried to take his head off with an arrow, so things must have worked out for him.

As if they wouldn’t.

He was still curious, though. So Bertrand pushed himself off the bed and wandered out into the hallway. He ventured over to Fafnir’s door and paused to listen. He couldn’t hear anything inside, though, and he felt a frown tug on his lips. Placing his hand on the doorhandle, he found the door was unlocked. His curiosity getting the best of him, he slowly turned the handle and opened the door enough for him to peek inside.

He wasn’t surprised by what he saw. In fact, he could say that he was relieved.

Standing in the middle of the room were the two and they were holding each other tightly. Flavio’s arms were around Fafnir’s neck and his face was against his shoulder. And Fafnir had his arms wound tightly around Flavio’s small waist, his chin resting against Flavio’s hair. They were whispering softly to each other, although Bertrand couldn’t make out the exact words. He did hear ‘don’t leave’ and something about not having to hold back or hide anymore.

Seemed as though Flavio actually did it. Finally. See? All he needed was a small push. And a threat of embarrassment.

While readjusting his hold on Flavio, Fafnir noticed him and immediately made a slight ‘shooing’ motion with his hand while continuing to keep Flavio as close to him as possible. Bertrand barely suppressed a snort. He obliged, though, and closed the door as silently as he could.

“You can thank me later,” Bertrand muttered as he headed to his room.

He knew that he had opened up a whole new kettle of fish, prompting the two to be more ‘lovey-dovey’ toward each other. But, hey, it was marginally better than all that shimmering tension from the ‘unrequited’ feelings and silent jealousy.

The best part was that they both owed him for it. And that was a debt that was going to be difficult to repay. He’d make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Flavio blearily rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. He didn’t have the faintest idea what time it was. It probably didn’t matter. He was working on a few documents for the Midgard Library and wanted to get them done as soon as possible. And, really, the only time he had to sit down and write out the information the documents required was at night, in the privacy of his room. He was too busy during the day to give his work the attention they needed.

He was starting to get a little bit…tired, though. And his vision was going a bit cockeyed as well. It’ll be fine, though. Just blink through it and carry on. It wasn’t like this was the first all-nighter he had pulled. He was getting quite used it.

And getting used to the bitter taste of Lagaardian coffee.

Running his eyes over his research papers, Flavio brought his coffee to his lips and about to take a sip, but was quickly thankful that he hadn’t as the door to his room suddenly burst open. Had he taken a sip, the liquid would have been abruptly spat out all over his documents.

He immediately jumped in his seat and spun around to face the door to his room, mercifully keeping a hold of his coffee while dropping his papers. He stared at the open door and drew in a sharp but silent breath.

A menacing figure stood on the threshold. Thankfully, though, Flavio knew who this figure was. And while his heart was still thundering loudly in his chest from the fright, he was relieved to see that Fafnir was the one to let himself into his room. Why the loud and dramatic entrance, though?

“What are you still doing up?” Fafnir asked him as he stepped further into the room, allowing for the door to fall slowly shut behind him.

Flavio immediately began to splutter a response as he set his coffee down onto his work desk and stood up. “I was just-work and-wait a minute. What are YOU still doing up?”

Fafnir unapologetically dismissed that question with a wave of his hand before he folded his arms over his chest. “This is the seventh night in a row.”

Flavio furrowed his brow as he tried to think back to the night before, wondering if he had indeed pulled an all-nighter then, too. Or maybe it was a half-nighter? No, he pretty sure he remembered fall asleep as some point…at his desk? That counted as sleep!

“Was it?” he muttered before a though suddenly occurred to him and he turned to give Fafnir an accusatory look of his own. “H-hey! If you know that, then you’ve been awake during those times, too!”

Infuriatingly, Fafnir rolled his eyes in contempt. “Of course I have,” he replied bluntly.

“Then we both need sleep!”

“Yes, we do.”

…Ugh, how was he supposed to argue with that logic?

“Look, Fafnir,” Flavio sighed, his shoulders unwittingly drooping in defeat as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll get some sleep in a minute. I have to finish-”

Finish his work? He didn’t even have a chance to finish his sentence before Fafnir unexpectedly took a fierce step forward and grabbed him firmly, but gently nonetheless, by his arms and…

Flavio’s world suddenly turned upside down. All he could see was the back of Fafnir’s shirt and feel something both muscular and bony jutting into his stomach.

W-wait…Fafnir just threw him over his shoulder?!

“What are you doing?” Flavio practically shrilled as he placed his hands on Fafnir’s muscular back and tried to push himself upright. “Stop manhandling me!”

“You’ve lost weight,” Fafnir had the nerve to comment, undaunted by his struggling.

“W-what?” Flavio spluttered with indignity. “I have not! Put me down!”

“No.”

With one arm wrapped around his legs, keeping Flavio perfectly balanced on his shoulder, Fafnir reached out with his other hand to pull back the blankets. Fafnir then proceeded to totally disregard Flavio’s squirming by repositioning his hands, one reaching up higher to touch Flavio’s waist as the other lingered on the back of his knees. Then, in one effortlessly fluent movement, swept Flavio up off of his shoulder and unceremoniously dropped him onto the bed.

“Wah!” Flavio, of course, shrieked when he found himself flat on his back on his bed. He quickly uttered another noise, a softer squeak of surprise, when Fafnir knelt on the bed and leaned over him, his eyes narrowed in firm manner.

“You’re going to sleep tonight,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And I’m going to make sure of it.”

…Was that a threat or a warning?

Fafnir reached over to grasp the end of the blanket and lifted it up. He then did something that was somewhat unexpected.

“Scoot over,” Fafnir said as he made the motion to join Flavio on the bed.

Flavio looked up at Fafnir for a silent moment with an expression of surprise on his face. However, he quickly nodded his head and scooted himself to the edge of the bed, of which was against the wall of his room. He found himself lying down on his side, his head resting on the edge of the pillow as Fafnir slipped onto the bed right next to him, draping the blanket over the both of them.

Although Flavio was essentially trapped between the stone wall against his bed and Fafnir lying next to him, he didn’t feel claustrophobic or smothered. He didn’t feel any form of discomfort. With the sturdy wall at his back and Fafnir’s warm body in front of him he felt safe. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt for a while. Safety, security; they were hard to come by in the labyrinth. Even his thoughts and musings often led to feelings of fear and doubt.

But with Fafnir with him, the voices of negativity that would sometimes plague him at night were silenced.

Flavio watched silently as Fafnir settled himself onto the bed, resting on his back, his head sharing the same pillow with him. His messy white hair fell softly against his forehead, his red eyes half-lidded with weariness. He was tired as well.

It was difficult, but Flavio managed to suppress the need to reach out and idly brush the white strands from Fafnir’s eyes. He couldn’t deny the way his heart was singing in joy at Fafnir’s close proximity. He had loved the man before him for who knows how many years. As kids, it was friendship which grew in admiration, which grew into a childish crush. And that grew even deeper. Fafnir wasn’t just his crush. Wasn’t someone he admired and wanted to go on dates with. He, well…

He loved him. He was in love with him. There was no one else he could imagine loving as much as he loved Fafnir.

Flavio hesitated in telling Fafnir that, though. He didn’t want to risk what they had now, whatever that may be. He couldn’t lose him. No matter what.

It was strange, wasn’t it? One would think sharing a bed with a man they were in love with would be hard. But for Flavio it wasn’t. He knew Fafnir well. He trusted him. There was no one else that could make him feel any safer. Any more secure. With him, nothing else mattered.

He just wished…

Fafnir rolled his head to the side and gazed at him with his ruby red eyes. “Get some sleep,” he said softly.

Flavio looked into his eyes for a moment before nodding his head slowly and tugging the blanket over his shoulder. He closed his eyes, only to open them a moment later to stare idly over the bed. He could see where his hand was hidden beneath the blanket and that Fafnir’s hand was close to his.

“I’ve missed this…” he whispered.

“Hm?” Fafnir made a soft sound, prompting him to continue.

“This peace,” Flavio said as his hand idly moved closer toward Fafnir’s. “This silence. I wish we were back to a time where we didn’t have worries or concerns. Where we didn’t have obligations or duties. Where we could be ourselves. Be…together.”

Beneath the blanket, Fafnir’s hand brushed against his, causing Flavio’s chest to tighten. He found himself gasping softly when Fafnir suddenly grasped his hand in his, his fingers interlocking with his.

“That time will come again,” Fafnir said to him.

Flavio closed his eyes as he grasped Fafnir’s hand tighter. He hoped so. He truly did.

Slowly, Fafnir shifted onto his side, his hand still holding Flavio’s. Suddenly, but oh-so softly, Fafnir draped his arm over his waist, his hand touching the small of Flavio’s back. Flavio opened his eyes to find himself looking at the collar of Fafnir’s clothing, so he tilted his head back ever so slightly. His gaze locked with Fafnir’s, idly realising that their faces were mere inches apart.

Fafnir’s arm around his waist suddenly tightened, pulling Flavio closer toward him. And as he tugged him closer, their lips instinctively sought each other’s out. Fafnir’s heated breathe ghost against Flavio’s lips, the touch so soft but it was enough for Flavio to utter a quiet gasp.

Inexplicably, Flavio’s eyes slid shut on their own accord as he lifted his chin up. He trembled ever so slightly when he felt Fafnir’s lip brush against his own before pressing them firmly together. Flavio felt tears began to well along his lashes, but he ignored them as he pushed himself closer to Fafnir, one of his hands grasping at the front of Fafnir’s shirt as the other kept a tight hold on his hand.

Fafnir’s lips were soft against his own, moving slowly, caressing gently. And Flavio was more than content by the warmth his touch brought him. He had never imagined that he would experience such a tender kiss from a man he had loved for so long, and he wanted to enjoy it without regret.

How long they indulged in such a tender embrace, Flavio didn’t know. Nor did he care. He didn’t even feel disappointment when Fafnir pulled away as his arms were still wrapped warmly around him, feeling as though he never wanted to let go.

Flavio felt nothing but contentment. It was something he had never felt before.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Fafnir murmured to him as he pulled Flavio toward his chest.

“Ok,” Flavio whispered simply as he pressed his nose against Fafnir’s chest and wrapped an arm around him to grasp at the back of his shirt.

He quickly fell asleep for he knew when he awoke in the morning, Fafnir would still be there. Holding him. Never wanting to let go.

He couldn’t wait to see him again.

Chapter Text

The 20th floor of labyrinth. The very top of the mighty Yggdrasil. The beautiful pink blossoms and stone pathways, and the vast expanse of the sky. At night, it was even more stunning.

Fafnir turned his gaze away from the countless stars twinkling high in the night sky to look at the man sitting next to him, his head resting comfortably on his shoulder as he gazed out at the horizon.

The night sky was indeed beautiful, but he could think of something, or rather someone, even more stunning.

It was just the two of them, resting against the stone wall of a flight of stairs, Flavio nestled against Fafnir’s side, his head resting on his shoulder as he hand grasped at the front of Fafnir’s shirt, idly drawing circles with his fingertip.

He looked so content. So peaceful. Even though they were in the labyrinth, just the two of them, he looked more relaxed than Fafnir had seen him for ages. Fafnir hoped that his contentment was because it was just the two of them, that he felt safe with him, regardless of their surroundings.

Fafnir smiled to himself. Well, Flavio had every right to feel safe with him. Fafnir would never let anything happen to him.

“You know,” Flavio murmured softly as he snuggled closer to him. “I could get used to this.”

The two of them together. Just the two of them. Enjoying each other’s company. Not thinking about their worries or concerns. Just enjoying each other’s presence. Fafnir enjoyed these rare moments of peace, too. He didn’t want to break the comfortable silence, but there was something he needed to say to Flavio. Tell him about his thoughts.

“Flavio, listen,” Fafnir started as he nudged Flavio gently with his shoulder. “The Calamity-”

Flavio sighed and lifted his head from his shoulder, pulling slightly away from hm. He chewed on his bottom lip as he shook his head. “Faf, no, I can’t…” he whispered.

“No, just listen,” Fafnir pleaded softly as he took to his feet. “I want you to hear this.”

Fafnir pulled Flavio to his feet before he placed his hands on Flavio’s hips and drew him into his arms. As Flavio rested his hands against Fafnir’s chest, Fafnir slipped his hands around Flavio’s waist to rest against the small of his back. They stood nose to nose as the bright pink petals of the fourth stratum rained down around them, the stars shining brightly in the endless sky around them.

He couldn’t help by muse how Flavio fitted so naturally into his arms. As if he was made just for him to hold.

“Don’t say anything until I’m finished, alright?” he requested.

Flavio looked at him with his large blue eyes before nodding his head slowly, a slight sense of concern on his face. He didn’t want to think about the Calamity tonight, that much was clear, and Fafnir didn’t want to talk about that atrocity. He was thinking of something else.

“I want to talk to you about what will happen after we defeat the Calamity,” Fafnir said as he idly rubbed his thumb in small circles against Flavio’s back. “I’ve been thinking about it. I want to stay here, in Lagaard. I want to take up Minister Dubois offer of nobility. I want to build a house here. For the two of us.”

“J-just us?” Flavio asked as a hopeful smile appeared on his lips.

Gods, he was so beautiful.

“Just us,” Fafnir said as he pressed his forehead against Flavio’s, the beautiful man in his arms grasping at the front of his shirt tightly with his hands. “I love what we have here. It’s the perfect place for us to live the rest of our lives together.”

Flavio made a soft sound, like a teary little laugh. “Th-that almost sounds like a marriage proposal,” he whispered, half joking but silently hopeful.

Fafnir smiled. “That’s because it is.”

Immediately, Flavio snapped his head up to look at him, look into his eyes. The surprise and disbelief in his eyes, the way his mouth dropped open ever so slightly made him even more beautiful. He appeared as though he wanted to say something, maybe chide him for joking around.

But Fafnir wasn’t joking.

Keeping one arm tightly around Flavio’s waist, Fafnir plunged his other hand into his pocket. He carefully pulled out a small object, something he had been carrying with him for a few days. At first, he had wanted to wait until the right time, maybe after they defeated the Calamity. But he grew impatient. Why wait any longer?

Holding the object in his right hand, Fafnir presented it to Flavio.

It was a ring.

No, it wasn’t an exploration ring, an accessory to quell or improve status. It was a ring. Simple and gold, but sturdy to last for years to come. A white jewel, a Celestine, sat within the gold. It wasn’t very prominent, but it would mean it would fit securely beneath Flavio’s glove so that he didn’t have to take it off.

The tears that began to well in Flavio’s eyes caused his eyes to shimmer under the bright light of the full moon as he stared down at the ring. He had been rendered speechless as he swallowed thickly, trying desperately to reign in the vast whorl of emotions he was feeling. Fafnir knew that wasn’t a bad sign. He knew him too well for that.

Instead trying to form a verbal response, Flavio hastily removed his left glove, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Honestly, that action said more than any words could.

Fafnir removed his arms from around Flavio, but they remained chest to chest as Fafnir carefully took Flavio’s hand in his and slipped the ring upon his finger.

Perfect. It fitted him perfectly.

Flavio stared at all at the ring, the small white jewel inexplicably sparking like a star. He kept looking at his hand as Fafnir wrapped his arms around him again. Flavio leaned against him as he pressed his hand against his own chest, idly turning the ring around on his finger with his thumb.

It truly did look natural on him.

Tears started to roll down Flavio’s cheeks as he lifted his head up to look at him, but he was smiling so gently, so warmly. He looked so happy.

That was it. That was what Fafnir wanted. What he wanted more than anything. He wanted Flavio to be happy. And if he was at his happiest being with him, then Fafnir would readily, willingly, spend the rest of his life making Flavio happy.

A pink flower petal fluttered against Flavio’s cheek and Fafnir brushed it aside with his thumb, also wiping away the tears of happiness that continued to roll down his cheeks.

“I love falling asleep next to you,” Fafnir said softly as Flavio nuzzled his cheek against the palm of Fafnir’s hand. “I love how you love me. I love everything about you. I love you more than life itself.”

“Fafnir…” Flavio whispered, his voice thick with emotion before he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Fafnir’s once more, gently touching the side of Fafnir’s face with his left hand. “God, I love you so much. I never want to lose you again. I want to be with you always.”

Fafnir tightened his arms around Flavio, pulling him even closer toward him. Placing a hand against the back of Flavio’s neck, he turned his face toward his and kissed him softly. Flavio sighed and slipped his fingers through Fafnir’s hair, slowly returning the pure and loving caress.

The soft pink petals of the fourth stratum continue to rain down around them and the stars continued to shine far above, yet they paled in comparison to what Fafnir felt with Flavio in his arms, kissing him.

Right now, nothing else mattered. Just them. Just the two of them.

Together.

Chapter Text

Burdens. Secrets. Regrets. The longer one carried such afflictions, the easier it became to hide them, to lie to others and to yourself that they didn’t exist. That you had nothing to hide.

For one hundred years Bertrand had lived with his secrets. Even though it was rare that a day went by that he was not reminded by how much he had lost in such a short amount of time. After all, the repercussions of a hasty decision on the part of someone else continued to present day.

One just learned to…adapt, was probably the best word to use. Adapt and survive.

He didn’t like thinking about his arm, about his own Fafnir Knight Scar. Didn’t even want to look at it. Though he did not have the powers that Fafnir did, his right arm bore the same deep scars and the same desire to taste the blood of monsters.

Sickly black skin with long, near reptilian fingers. A jagged unnatural blue scar on the back of his hand. There was no other way to describe the appendage other than repulsive.

He became somewhat of an expert at distracting himself as he dealt with his right arm. He learnt to bandage it up quickly without gaining anyone’s suspicion. He learnt how to ignore the low ache from the scar as it longed for battle. He even learnt how to write and use his right hand as if his fingers were not elongated and deadly.

For one hundred years no one had seen his arm or his scar. No one cared enough to ask of the bandages. In all honesty, he was glad. He didn’t like to talk about his arm, about his scar, and about all that had happened one hundred years ago. He didn’t like to recall how he lost so much. How he wandered the earth from day to day. How time was so irrelevant to him that days merged together and season came and went so slowly, yet they were so inconsequential to him.

However, they always said that secrets couldn’t stay buried forever. And in all honesty, Bertrand had hoped that his secrets would be revealed after his death so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications himself. Yet, like with everything else he had faced so far, the gods of mercy were not on his side.

For the first time in one hundred years, he finally told someone. His guildmates deserved to know. They needed to know. And, well, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. His attempt to finally succumb to his own destiny while protecting Fafnir from his backfired in a spectacular fashion.

At the very least, his efforts led to the possibility of no more Fafnir Knights having to endure what he and Fafnir had to. If they could managed to defeat this Calamity, then the pain and suffering he had endured for so long…it would finally be worth it.

It was surprisingly hard to talk at first, especially about something he had ignored for so long. Words came out short, harsh, and jumbled. His memories of events were sketchy, yet he remembered specific details all the same.

People often claimed that after hiding a secret for so long, it was therapeutic to finally get it off of their chest. Yet, Bertrand had been keeping his for so long that all he felt afterwards was tired and surprisingly indifferent.

Still, a part of him was glad that he was able to tell someone. And that, deep inside, he hadn’t lost the ability to become attached to someone. Close enough to care.

For one hundred years Bertrand had been alone. And he had been ok with that. Then he met Chloe. A small child, she became attached to him, though he did not know why. Why anyone would want to follow around a lazy, dismissive guy like him was beyond him. At first he tried to shoo her away from him, but the stubborn little thing kept following him so he had no choice but to let her tag along with his wanderings.

It wasn’t long that he grew used to her presence. He even grew attached to her as well, though he wouldn’t admit it, instead claiming to be the girl’s lazy, disgruntled uncle.

Fafnir was the next person he grew close to, though he felt nothing but pity for him when it was first revealed he was to become the next Fafnir Knight. In him he saw the same young man that he was all those years ago, albeit he was a bit less sarcastic and deadpan than Fafnir was. He was surprisingly stubborn and resilient, though, which got Bertrand hoping that if anyone could defeat this Calamity once and for all, it would be Fafnir.

Flavio came next, for his dedication for Fafnir and his sincerity in wanting to keep everyone safe and secure. He genuinely cared for others and he openly expressed that compassion of his. One couldn’t help but like the kid. And Bertrand liked him enough to tease him whenever he could, something he hadn’t done to anyone for so long.

Of all the members of their guild, he must admit that his friendship toward Arianna came last, mostly because she reminded him so much of his own precious princess. Sweet, polite, naïve yet observant. There were honestly a few times, when the young princess was showing her worldliness, that he almost called her Violetta. Odd, since he had not spoken that name aloud for so long.

After he told his guild, told Chloe, Fafnir, Flavio, and Arianna all he could remember, he had consoled himself that he would not be forced to relive those memories again. He didn’t want to sit down and talk about it. He didn’t want to sit with a cup of tea and reminisce.

His past was long gone. The time for regret, confusion, disbelief had well and truly passed.

Yet, on the eve of confronting the being known as the Overlord of the Heavenly Keep, Bertrand found himself talking about his past to another. Someone who had no connection to the ruins of Ginnungagap. No connection to the curse of the Fafnir Knight.

Hrothgar.

Bertrand had thought that it was only his guild that he would become close to. They spent their days together, trekking through the labyrinth, fighting side by side, after all. It was just a matter of time.

Yet, somehow, that redheaded protector, the one they saved from virtually committing suicide by trying to defeat Chimaera on his own had somehow gotten under his skin.

At first, Bertrand had dismissed him as some kid with a shield. If he wanted to get himself killed in revenge against the monster that took the lives of his guildmates, then Bertrand wasn’t going to get in his way. If that was how he wanted to go, that was his choice.

But it was when the kid looked at him with eyes filled with gratitude and sympathy that Bertrand started to realise that, perhaps, the kid was hurting more than he was letting anyone know. He didn’t just want to get revenge for his guildmates’ deaths. He wanted to end his own pain. He was glad that someone understood his desire, yet sad at the same time for that meant they had lost someone dear to them, too.

Bertrand felt a sense of pity for the kid then. Pain did strange things to people, after all. Losing everything they knew and loved could either make you desperate to end the suffering by any means. Or become cold and detached, never allowing yourself to care for anything ever again in a desperate attempt to protect yourself.

It was after their victorious battle against Chimaera that Bertrand really started to take notice of Hrothgar. The red-haired protector and his wolf companion found a new lease on life. While they weren’t overly flowery or nauseatingly happy about everything, they seemed to be content with a sense of closure with the demise of Chimaera. Yet he continued to be a guiding figure for those new to the labyrinth, content to stay within the boundaries of the first and second stratum.

They continued to bump into each other, at the inn and at the bar mostly. First they were nods of acknowledgements and friendly silent smiles. Then Chloe, of all people, suggested that Hrothgar and Wulfgar join them for a drink. Ever polite, Hrothgar agreed.

After that day, their two guilds often found themselves spending time together. Bertrand especially found himself alone in the redhead’s presence. And surprisingly, he didn’t mind.

The kid was easy to talk to. Honestly, speaking with Hrothgar about mindless, non-consequential stuff was relaxing. And reassuring in a sense. There was more to life than Ginnungagap and the Fafnir Knight curse. Yet, the more time he spent with the understanding and gentle redhead, the more Bertrand wanted to tell him about his past. But he had always restrained himself. He didn’t want to lump the kid with unnecessary baggage, after all.

Yet…

Why he wanted to talk to him tonight, to tell him everything when he really should be resting up for a possible battle against the Overlord, he didn’t truly know. He guessed it was because he wanted the kid to know that if he didn’t come back from the next battle, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to.

After Bertrand had finished his tale of his past and as the bandages covering his right arm fell away, Hrothgar sat quietly on the edge of his bed next to him. And in the darkness of his room at the inn, Bertrand waited silently for a response from the man next to him.

He wondered what kind of reaction he was going to receive from Hrothgar. Pity? Disbelief? Awkward comfort? He had stayed quiet the entire time, staring at the floor in front of him as he hands curled around the edge of the bed by his sides.

With his red hair covering his eyes, Hrothgar unexpectedly made a soft sound that was almost like a barely restrained sob. “You're...so strong,” he whispered as he lifted his chin up and looked over at Bertrand.

Honestly, Bertrand was surprised to see the compassion and empathy in Hrothgar’s soft blue eyes. Eyes that also held unshed tears.

“How could you stand it, all those years?” Hrothgar asked, his voice strained. “When I lost my guild, I virtually lost my will to live. Yet you...you kept living all those years. It must have been so painful for you.”

Bertrand gave him a humourless smile. “I wasn't living, kid.”

“But you kept going,” Hrothgar insisted with a slight, almost desperate shake of his head. “Surviving is just as important as living. And you did that. Despite everything. You kept going.”

…He kept going because he didn’t know what else to do.

Bertrand shrugged lightly, trying to appear dismissive. “Apathy. Indifference.  Detachment. You just stop caring about anything or anyone.”

Again, Hrothgar shook his head as he leaned a little closer toward Bertrand, their shoulders just touching. “That's not entirely true. Especially not now. If you didn't care at all, if you were just tagging along out of duty and obligation, then you would not spend so much time with your guild. With Chloe. You...wouldn't be talking with me.”

A soft sigh passed Bertrand’s lips. There was no point in denying that anymore, was there?

Hrothgar turned his gaze back to Bertrand’s arm and his expression grew softer still. “When was the last time this hand touched anyone?”

“…I don't remember,” Bertrand answered honestly.

“Can I touch...?”

“...Sure.”

Slowly, Hrothgar lifted his hand from the bed and with no hesitation, reached out to softly touch the back of Bertrand’s hand that rested on his knee. He didn’t immediately reach out for the blue jagged scar like Bertrand expected, instead his fingers touched the back of his wrist before slowly moving over the back of his hand. His touch was soft, moving gently over each little crease and dip of his knuckles, yet Bertrand could every little caress.

It was a little surprising, actually.

Wordlessly, Bertrand pulled his hand away, watching as Hrothgar curl his own hand away, disappointed. But he had only pulled away so that he could turn over his hand, allowing for himself to flex his fingers a little and to reveal his palm. Hrothgar immediately reach forward again trailed his fingers across the lines that still creased his palm. The life-line, the heart-line, and (ironically) the fate line.

“Does it hurt?” Hrothgar asked as he pressed his palm against Bertrand’s, his fingers slipping through Bertrand’s. He wasn’t even remotely afraid of the claw-like appendages.

“No,” Bertrand answered truthfully as he carefully curled his hand around Hrothgar’s. “The pain went away years ago.”

Hrothgar placed his other atop of their joined hands. “So it did hurt at some point?”

“Yeah.”

Hrothgar sighed before he pressed his shoulder against Bertrand’s, leaning closer to him. “You’re going to meet this Overlord tomorrow?”

Bertrand gave a short nod of his head. “That’s right.”

“What if he won’t cooperate?”

“Then we’ll fight.”

“…Then you’ll fight the Calamity?”

“Yeah.”

Hrothgar tightened his grip on their joined hands and chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at the floor. Bertrand could tell that he was on the verge of tears, his fear getting the better of him. “…You-?”

“I’ve lived this long,” Bertrand said, interrupting him. “I won’t be dying now.”

Hrothgar slowly lifted his head up to look at him and he did something unexpected and surprising. He suddenly leaned forward toward Bertrand and kissed him softly on the lips. Bertrand felt his eyes widen in shock and when Hrothgar pulled back, he was blushing lightly, a sense of uncertainty in his eyes.

“I can’t lose you, too…” he whispered.

Although Bertrand could never have suspected that the redheaded protector would feel that way toward him and he never thought that he, himself, could feel something like it either, he didn’t have it in him to push the other away. It had been so long since he had touched someone, held them tightly in his arms that he almost forgotten was it felt like.

He missed that feeling. Pulling someone close. Feeling them in his arms. Holding them. Touching them. Telling them that everything was going to be ok. Promising that he would take care of them no matter what.

…It wouldn’t hurt to let himself feel that again, would it?

“Ah. Settle for an old man like me?” Bertrand asked with a slight smile on his lips.

Hrothgar drew in a sharp breath before an expression of relief appeared on his face and he smiled. “I'm not a superficial person,” he said as he leaned closer toward Bertrand.

“I know,” Bertrand said as he disentangled his hand from Hrothgar and wrapped his arm, his cursed arm, around Hrothgar's shoulders as he gently lowered him onto the bed. “You'll regret it in the morning.”

Hrothgar fervently shook his head and grabbed the front of Bertrand’s shirt with his hand as the other slipped through the short strands of Bertrand’s hair and pulled his face down toward his.

Bertrand would worry about the Overlord and the Calamity tomorrow. Because for tonight, there nothing was more important than this…

Chapter Text

As he opened his eyes from what felt like a short, but surprisingly restful nap, Hrothgar found himself standing in the middle of a meadow of wild flowers. It was a place he hadn’t seen before and knew that he was no longer within the boundaries of the labyrinth. Yet, he wasn’t alarmed.

He just started walking. One step at a time. Moving forward with a sense of purpose, though he did not know why or where he was going. Something was telling him to keep going forward. Something was pushing him to move.

Just walk and see, he told himself. Not much further now.

As he reached the crest of a small hill within the sea of flowers, Hrothgar finally came to a stop. All around him were beautiful flowers. Poppies, yet of different colours he had not seen before. Pinks, purples, blues, yellows. It was quite beautiful.

Something…something didn’t seem right, though. The flowers were gently swaying, as if dancing from a caressing breeze, and yet Hrothgar could not feel any wind upon his face. And his colourful surroundings seemed oddly muted in shades.

And he couldn’t hear a thing. No sound of the wind blowing through the tall flowers. No birds chirping in the distance. Nothing.

A flash of white suddenly caught his attention and he turned to look. A woman was seen amongst the flowers, her back to him. Luscious long hair held in a high ponytail danced and curled in the wind. She wore a long white dress that draped so effortless over her curves. Her presence felt regal and somehow ethereal in a sense. She was quite a striking woman, no one Hrothgar had seen before. And yet…

Yet there was a strange sense of familiarity from her. It was as though he knew of her, but did not know her. It was a confusing feeling, but he did not dwell on it. The thought came and went quickly.

Slowly, the woman in the white gown turned toward him and smiled warmly, gently. Her hair continued to dance unabated in the wind as she held a long, pale arm in his direction. She appeared to be beckoning him over to her.

“Hrothgar,” an almost celestial voice said to him, the voice seeming echoing throughout his mind and the flower covered meadow. “Sit with me for a while.”

Oddly, Hrothgar felt a slight sense of trepidation...How did she know his name?

The feeling of unease only lasted a mere moment, though, and Hrothgar was soon making his way toward the beautiful woman. He then found himself sitting on the ground, amongst the flowers, and next to the lady in white.

With her white dress sprawled around her, her legs folded neatly beneath her, she gazed over the field of flowers with a small smile on her lips. “It's beautiful here, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Hrothgar found himself answering. “It's very peaceful.”

The woman nodded her head and continued to smile gently. “There is no pain here,” she said.

Hrothgar tilted his head to the side in confusion. What did she mean ‘there was no pain here’? Could that really be possible?

The lady in white was suddenly standing up a few feet in front of Hrothgar, her arms folded behind her back as she looked up at the sky. “There are...” she hesitated for a moment. “A few things that I wish to ask of you.”

“Yes, what is it?” Hrothgar replied without any hesitation.

The woman turned to look at him, her hands folded in front of her in a prayer. “Please tell Bertrand that I am safe here. That I am free and happy.”

Hrothgar felt a sudden pain in his heart at the mentioning of that name and he clutched at his chest. Bertrand...

“Please.” The lady in white was now kneeling before him, holding her two hands out toward him. “Show Bertrand this.”

Hrothgar glanced down at her hands to see a delicate piece of jewellery; a silver oval pendant with a milky-white stone on a long silver chain. “A necklace?”

“It was a present from long ago,” she told him as she gently took one of his hands and pressed the silver necklace against his palm, curling his fingers around it to ensure a firm grip. “He gave it to me with a pledge. But that pledge has been fulfilled. It is time that he makes another. To you.”

“M-me?”

“You need to go back now,” she said to him with nothing but compassion in her eyes. “He’s waiting.”

G-go back? Waiting? What did she mean? Go back to where?

Wait…

“I...died?” Hrothgar whispered in shock, yet he felt no fear or distress.

The woman before him laughed ever so softly. "No," she said as she reached up to tap the tip of his nose with her finger. "Just visiting. I'll send you back now."

The ground beneath Hrothgar suddenly gave way and he felt as if he was slowly falling. Something had the hold of his left arm and pulling him slowly downwards. Pulling him back to a place that was…important. But he…wasn’t ready yet. He had to know who this woman was.

“W-wait,” Hrothgar said as he reached out toward the lady in white. “What is your name?”

"...Violetta."

Hrothgar drew in a sharp intake of air. That name. She was…? N-no, she was too important to Bertrand! He had to let her know!

“V-Violetta? Bertrand-”

Violetta suddenly grasped his hand tightly with both of hers and looked at him with a warm yet somehow desperate expression on her face. “Tell him. Tell Bertrand I said thank you and I am sorry, for what he had to endure because of me. Tell him that it's ok for him to let me go. Tell him that I will always watch over him. Tell him that his happiness is my only wish.”

Violetta…she cared for Bertrand so much.

“And Hrothgar, please,” Violetta continued as tears appeared in her eyes, her smile tender. “Love him in a way that I could not.”

“I-I will. I promise,” Hrothgar said as his eyesight slowly began to fade to a strangely comforting black. 

Hrothgar suddenly felt…numb. He didn’t know where he was now. He was no longer within that field of flowers. His eyelids also felt incredibly heavy when he tried to open them. He wanted to, though. So badly. He could hear sounds. Like voices murmuring from a distance. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, yet he felt as if there was a sense of frantic panic in the air.

“Hrothgar!”

That…voice…?

It was so hard, but somehow Hrothgar gained the strength needed to open his eyes. A piercing light immediately flooded his vision and though he didn’t want to, he shut his eyes out of reflex.

“No, come on, kid. I need you to keep those eyes open.”

It was that voice again. Hrothgar immediately recognised it.

“Hn…” Hrothgar murmured as he forced his eyes open once more, the light from before not as painful. Slowly he lolled his head to the side, and even though his vision was blurry, the symbol upon the cloth of yellow and blue was immediately recognisable to him. “Bert…trand?”

There was a loud sigh of relief and Hrothgar felt something curl tightly around his shoulders, pulling him against something warm and comforting. “Thank the gods…”

Hrothgar could only stare at the crest upon Bertrand’s clothing as more voices began to slowly register in his mind.

“D-don't try to move, ok? You’re fine. D-don’t worry about a thing, ok?”

“Trand, we need to get him back to town. Keep him awake.”

“Sir Hrothgar, hold on a little longer, everything will be fine.”

“I’ll clear the way for everyone. The geopole is close by.”

The Midgard Library Guild? All of them. And they sounded worried. Why would they be so worried? He and Wulfgar had just been helping a rookie guild through the third floor. Nothing to worry about. No foes. Just…a strangely large frog he had never seen before…

“What happened?” Hrothgar murmured as he found the strength to lift his chin up to gaze up at the man cradling him close. “Where’s Wulfgar?”

“Wulfgar’s fine,” Bertrand replied immediately, his voice sounding surprisingly hoarse. As if thick with emotion. “Don’t worry.”

“B-Bertrand?” Hrothgar whispered when he realised that Bertrand was holding him closely against his chest, one arm wrapped firmly but gently around his shoulders as the other idly toyed with his hand that rested against his chest. “What happened?”

“...You died, kid.”

Hrothgar drew in a sharp intake of air before he chuckled softly. That was right. He remembered now.

“No,” he said. “I was just visiting.”

Bertrand immediately turned to look down at him in confusion. Hrothgar licked his dry, chapped lips as he tried to tell him what had happened when he realised that Bertrand hadn’t been idly toying with his hand. His right hand had been curled tightly into a fist, as if keeping a firm grip on something important.

Hrothgar lifted his hand from his chest and slowly unfurled his fingers. A long silver chain slipped through his fingers, but he made sure to hold onto the silver and white pendant. “B-Bertrand, here.”

Bertrand glanced at the pendant for a moment before his eyes grew wide in shock. “…Where did you get that?”

“Violetta g-gave it to me,” Hrothgar explained as he tried to sit up, to tell Bertrand everything Violetta had asked of him. “She wants you to know…something.”

“E-easy,” Bertrand said as he pulled Hrothgar closer toward him and allowing for him to sit up a little more without putting any strain of his body.

“She’s not in pain anymore, Bertrand,” Hrothgar said as he rested against Bertrand’s chest, his eyes drooping from fatigue. “You don’t…have to worry anymore.”

“Is…is that so?”

“Yeah,” Hrothgar whispered as he lifted the necklace higher, wanting Bertrand to take it, to look at it. “She…sent me back. With this. Your pledge has been…fulfilled.”

Bertrand made the motion to take the necklace from him, but instead placed his hand atop of Hrothgar’s, curling his fingers around the keepsake. “…Keep it.”

Hrothgar smiled as he tightened his hold around the necklace and rested his head against Bertrand’s shoulder. “She’ll always…watch over you,” he whispered as he closed his eyes.

Bertrand suddenly hugged him tightly against his chest and buried his face in the crook of his neck. “…thank you, Violetta…”

Chapter Text

High Lagaard was a city designated to aiding explorers and adventures. Weapon shops, pubs and bars with requests made solely for the labyrinth, and comfortable inns designed to care for the weary traveller. With their infrastructure so reliant on Yggdrasil, it was no surprised that they focused mostly on the welfare of explorers.

But there was a minor detail that everyone seemed to be forgetting and something Flavio himself had never thought would actually bother him – there was very little to do in town that wasn’t connected to the labyrinth. In other words…there was hardly anywhere for people to go when they wanted to go on dates.

It was especially hard when one was a dedicated explorer and their first thought for a date venue was actually the labyrinth…

“The labyrinth?” Regina practically shrilled when she overheard Flavio and Fafnir planning on where they should go for their date. “Who in their right mind would go on a date in the labyrinth?”

“Double date,” Fafnir responded idly, unconcerned that Regina had been essentially eavesdropping on their private conversation. “Bertrand and Hrothgar are going on a date, too.”

That was right! It wasn’t like they were heading about alone. The four of them together in the labyrinth should be fine. Besides, Hrothgar had admitted the other day that he hadn’t ventured past the third stratum yet, mostly because his guidance was still needed within the first stratum. And because he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to venture there with just him and Wulfgar.

Regina, however, just sent Fafnir her rather infamous glare. “I don't care if it's a triple date, why would you go into the labyrinth?”

“W-what else are we supposed to do?” Flavio spluttered. The labyrinth could be quite beautiful! Really! If you avoided all the monsters, foes, and dangerous tiles…

“Well, you could have a date here, you know?” Regina said as she indicated to their surroundings, reminding them that they, you know, owned a restaurant and could eat in whenever they wanted. “A candlelit dinner or something.”

The suggestion did honestly sound appealing, but there was one little problem. “And have you lot gawking at us the entire time?” Flavio returned.

“W-what?” Regina spluttered with indignity as her cheeks turned a light pink. “What's that supposed to mean? I wouldn't gawk. I have a kitchen to run.”

“I would,” Chloe admitted without any shame.

And Arianna looked just as carefree. “I must admit I, too, would find myself watching from afar. Romantic candlelight dinner...how lovely!”

“And there you have it,” Flavio said as he folded his arms across his chest in a sign of ill-won victory. “We're going to the labyrinth.”

Regina sighed in annoyance as she side-eyed Chloe and Arianna. “Jeez, you two are way too honest...” she muttered and shook her head slightly. “How can you possibly do anything romantic with all that armour, anyway? Wait, how about this? There's a food festival over in the east ward. You should go there instead.”

“Festival, huh?” Flavio murmured as he tapped his cheek in thought. That didn’t sound like a bad idea, actually. There had been more and more festivals lately, most likely in response of the coming winter as people are likely to hibernate during those bitterly cold months.

“What do you think?” Flavio asked as he turned to Fafnir.

Fafnir pondered for a moment. “It would be a lot more relaxing than the labyrinth,” he finally said.

“That's true. Ok, we'll visit this festival instead,” Flavio said before he turned around to give the three ladies of their group a narrow stare. “And no following.”

Regina bristled while Arianna and Chloe looked completely unbothered. “What do you take us for?”

Flavio would take them for their word for now. All they needed to do now was to tell Hrothgar to meet them at the east ward tomorrow evening. And convince Bertrand that he was also going and that putting up any kind of resistance would be futile.

… … … … …

As he glanced around at festivities, at the bustling crowds, couples flitting from one food store to the next, Bertrand wondered how or why he had even agreed to this. A double date? Really? Oh, sure, he understood the principle behind it and knew that it also came with good intentions in mind, but why did it have to be Fafnir and Flavio?

They were that obnoxiously affectionate couple who didn’t realise that they were obnoxiously affectionate. And Bertrand hadn’t been affectionate with anyone for years, so didn’t really have knowledge of what kids these days did during dates and whatnot. Talk about added pressure.

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?” Bertrand muttered aloud.

“Why not?” Flavio countered from beside Fafnir, his hand clasping the other’s tightly. “Just the four of us spending time together can’t be a bad thing, right?”

Fafnir nodded his head idly before he turned his focus on Bertrand, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, as if threatening to break out into a half-smirk. “Besides, it’s been a hundred years for you.”

Flavio winced. “Fafnir…”

Bertrand folded his arms tightly across his chest and gave Fafnir a purely cynical look. “Doing me a favour, then?”

Fafnir appeared as if he wanted to make some kind of sarcastic comment in reply but was silenced when Flavio suddenly tugged at his hand and gestured into the crowds around them.

“Look, its Hrothgar,” Flavio said with a sense of relief before he waved his arm into the air. “Hey, over here!”

Turning to look as well, Bertrand felt his breath hitch in his throat when a familiar redhead pushed his way through the crowds to make his way over to them.

Looking far more comfortable without his silver armour, Hrothgar wore a dark blue knitted jumper that was loosely fitted over a pair of black pants, while not tight they certainly showed of his long legs. But what caught Bertrand’s attention the most was the silver chain with a silver and white pendant that hung around his neck.

That necklace…he immediately recognised it. He had given it to Violetta so long ago, to prove to her that he was a man and a knight that could be relied on. And that necklace had somehow been passed along to Hrothgar after he…received a few injuries in the labyrinth. Horthgar had insisted that Violetta gave it to him, to prove to him in return that she was also watching over him.

And that she wanted him to find some happiness of his own.

Bertrand honestly didn’t know what to think when Hrothgar told him what he had seen, what the lady in white had told him. It was almost too surreal to believe. But if anyone could find a way to reach out to another through a near-death experience, and give them physical proof of their meeting, it would be Violetta. She was a sweet but incredibly determined, after all.

“Sorry,” Hrothgar said as he joined them. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Hey Hrothgar, we just got here ourselves,” Flavio said in his usual friendly manner as Fafnir and Bertrand nodded their heads in greeting. “You know, you look different without your armour.”

Hrothgar chuckled softly as his hand reached up to trace a finger over the silver and white pendant. “Yes, I’m sure. I actually feel slightly awkward without my armour as well.”

“You look fine,” Bertrand blurted out before he could stop himself, earning himself a blush from Hrothgar, a smirk from Fafnir, and a small knowing smile from Flavio.

“Ah, that’s good,” Hrothgar said in response.

“Let’s check out these food stores,” Flavio suggested as he and Fafnir took the lead.

With Flavio’s hand still grasping Fafnir’s tightly, he led them all toward the food court, where stalls were set up to allow for the purchase of foods. Some stalls even had the option of trying samples of unique, self-made recipes.

In all honesty, some of the samples looked a little suspect, to be polite. But after having tried the vast majority of Auspice’s infamous recipes, very little in the culinary world unnerved Bertrand anymore. Hrothgar was more cautious, though, and it was honestly cute watching as he wrinkled his nose slightly, an expression of unease on his face before giving in and trying the sample anyway, later proclaiming with relief that it tasted better than it looked.

Hrothgar seemed to be enjoying himself, which was a relief on Bertrand’s part.

However, he still felt somewhat awkward. And it was mostly due to the other couple of their so-called Double Date.

They were playfully feeding each other the food samples, Fafnir’s hands constantly resting against Flavio’s waist and hips, pulling the other toward him, never allowing him to be less than an arm length away from him. And Flavio seemed oblivious to how close they constantly were, yet he, too, made the effort to ensure that he was never too far from Fafnir’s hands either.

…It was actually getting quite annoying.

Bertrand roughly scratched the back of his neck. They weren’t expecting him to follow their lead, right? He couldn’t launch himself into that kind of public display of affection so quickly.

“Are they always like this?” Hrothgar asked Bertrand quietly as they stood a little away from the two.

Bertrand sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “Every damn day.”

Surprisingly, Hrothgar laughed softly. “It’s good to see that they’re so comfortable around each other,” he said with a sincere smile before a somewhat wistful expression appeared on his face. “They’re so much in love, aren’t they?”

…It shouldn’t be surprising that Hrothgar yearned for that kind of relationship himself.

“Ah,” Bertrand said. “I suppose we all long for someone to make our heart race.”

Hrothgar glanced over toward him before he blushed lightly and looked away again. “Actually, I personally would rather have someone who makes me sigh with relief upon seeing them.”

“Really now?” Bertrand murmured, not really knowing what else to say.

“Something wrong?”

Upon hearing the slight concern in Flavio’s voice, Hrothgar placed a polite smile on his lips and shook his head. “Not at all. We were just talking about how much fun you two seem to be having.”

Flavio smile warmly as he subconsciously rested his back against Fafnir’s chest, Fafnir wrapping his arms loosely around his waist. “This is our first time at one of these festivals that doesn’t involve trying to entice customers to visit the restaurant.”

Hrothgar nodded his head in understanding. “Hm. I haven’t visited one since…my guild past away,” he admitted, his smile becoming strained. “So it’s nice to be back, creating new memories.”

Bertrand, however, couldn’t help but wince inwardly. He really hoped that Hrothgar wasn’t just saying that to be polite.

“It’s getting too crowded,” Fafnir suddenly said as he indicated in a direction with his chin. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Hrothgar seemed to be grateful for the suggestion. “Ok.”

As they turned to follow Fafnir, Bertrand lifted his hand and placed it against Hrothgar’s back, hoping to comfort him as he was sure to be experiencing memories of his past now. Hrothgar tilted his head back sent him a grateful smile as he moved to step in time with him, Bertrand’s hand shifting so that his arm was wrapped around his shoulders instead.

They walked in silence for a few moments until they reached the small nature reserve in the centre of the east ward, a location that survivalists and medics often retreated to, to either learn more about the plants or to study in peace.

However, for tonight, someone had taken the time and effort to set out small tea light candles in glass holders in numerous places around the park, casting the area in a warm orange glow. There were also strings of candlelit lanterns and with the full moon above adding ambient light. The atmosphere was undoubtedly warm and romantic.

And with numerous other couples loitering about, Bertrand wasn’t the only one who thought so.

As they moved deeper into the park, Flavio gently took Hrothgar by the elbow and pulled him over to him so he could talk quietly with him. “Are you feeling nervous?” he asked.

Hrothgar tilted his head to the side in question. “Hm? Why do you ask?”

“You keep fiddling with your necklace.”

Realising that his head was once again gently touching the silver and white pendant, Hrothgar flushed lightly before he smiled. “Oh, this? Sorry, just a habit I picked up since wearing it.”

The typical caretaker, Flavio appeared as if he wanted to make sure that Hrothgar really was fine and not uneasy in anyway. However, he was silenced when Fafnir impatiently reached up and tugged him against his side.

“Flavio, come here for a sec,” Fafnir said, even though he had already pulled the survivalist toward him, his arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Ah, sure,” Flavio murmured as an expression of confusion appeared on his face, though making no attempt to physically remove himself from Fafnir’s tight grip.

Fafnir then turned his attention toward Bertrand and gave him quite a pointed look. “You two can stay here. We’re just going to check something.”

“Sure,” Bertrand replied. He watched them, though; as Fafnir loosen his hold slightly and slipped his hand around to rest against the small of Flavio’s back before guiding him away. Immediately, the Flavio pressed himself against Fafnir’s side, leaning as close to each other while still being able to walk.

However, Bertrand could hear them talking, their voices growing softer as they moved away.

“Stop being such a fusspot,” Fafnir whispered to Flavio, causing the survivalist to bristle slightly with indignity.

“Did you just call me a fusspot?!”

“I know it’s been a hundred years since Bertrand did anything even remotely like this, but give him a break,” Fafnir carried on regardless. “They’ll be fine.”

So…despite Fafnir’s sarcastic comment earlier, they really were trying to be mindful of him, huh? Damn. That just made things a little more awkward. Now he felt that he had to do something, like a grand gesture or something to reassure the two that he was fine, that the date was going fine.

More added pressure.

“Is there something wrong?” Hrothgar asked, pulling Bertrand from his thoughts.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Bertrand replied out of habit. However, as he turned to look at Hrothgar, finding the other man looking at him with his head tilted ever so slightly (and cutely) to the side in curiosity. “It’s…”

“Hm?”

Bertrand sighed and roughly scratched the back of his neck once more. “It’s been a while since I’ve done anything like this, I suppose you could say.”

A flicker of surprised appeared in Hrothgar’s eyes, but he quickly smiled softly and nodded his head. “Oh? If it makes you feel better, I’ve never been on a date.”

Bertrand raised an eyebrow. Really? Hard to believe. Hrothgar was undeniably gorgeous, after all. “Hm?”

Hrothgar flushed lightly before he gave a one shoulder shrug. “It’s was just…something that wasn’t overly important, I suppose,” he explained as he turned his gaze toward the many small lanterns that dotted within the tree around them. “There seems to be so much pressure and expectation upon the idea of going out on dates. They need to be perfect, to be memorable. To the point that the one arranging the experience focuses entirely on the idea of the date rather than actually enjoying the date itself.”

Unable to think of a way to respond to that, Bertrand remained silent. He, however, did feel a sense of relief rush through him.

“Spending time together, either talking or sitting in comfortable silence, to me that’s better than any outlandish date,” Hrothgar finished as he turned his gaze back toward Bertrand, his hand unconsciously sneaking up to gently touch the pendant around his neck.

Bertrand felt his gaze drift to the necklace and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt upon seeing it. “You all right with that necklace?” he found himself asking suddenly. “I mean, it's...second hand after all.”

“No, it's fine,” Hrothgar replied as his hand immediately tightened around the pendant. “It means...Violetta has given me her approval. And that means a lot to me as well.”

…This guy, honestly. How did he manage to get someone like him?

Bertrand found himself gazing silently at Hrothgar for a moment before he eyes soften and he took a step forward, moving closer to him. He then cupped the side of Hrothgar’s face with his hand, his fingers threading through his red hair. Hrothgar looked up at him as he pressed his cheek against the palm of Bertrand’s hand. Slowly, Bertrand pulled Hrothgar toward him as he leaned forward. Hrothgar closed his eyes and gripped the front of his shirt in anticipation. As Bertrand wrapped his right arm around Hrothgar’s waist, he kissed his lips. Hrothgar made a soft sound of relief as he allowed Bertrand to pull him even closer toward him.

It had been so long since Bertrand had kissed anyone, but he instinctively knew what to do. The feel of Hrothgar’s lips against his felt amazing, though, and he had to remind himself to keep it slow and gentle. He couldn’t help but yearn for more, though. And Hrothgar seemed to need it as much as he did when he pressed himself closer against him.

As Hrothgar wrapped his arms around Bertrand’s neck, Bertrand slipped his hand to the back of Hrothgar’s head and softly ran his tongue over Hrothgar’s lips, enticing them to part and to allow him to deepen the kiss even further. Hrothgar tightened his arms around Bertrand’s neck as he all but melted into his embrace. He uttered a soft sigh of contentment against Bertrand’s lips as Bertrand raked his fingers through his hair.

Bertrand could so easily tell that Hrothgar needed to be held by someone as much as Bertrand needed to hold someone.

And if he was the one to do it, if he was the only one that Hrothgar wanted, then that was fine with him.

Completely and utterly fine with him.

Chapter Text

Despite his skills as a survivalist, Flavio wasn't necessarily a suspicious person by nature. He was cautious, some would say skittish, but he simply didn't eye off everything and everyone he encountered with a sense of suspicion.

But when Flavio walked into a room at the inn, prompted by none other than Quinoa, and saw that the room was filled with small, softly glowing candles around a table set for two in the middle of the room, he felt suspicious. As well as confused and, yes, maybe even a little bit of dread.

Flavio dragged his hands over his face as he thought back to how or why he ended up in this very room. It had been raining all day, a storm lingering off the coast, so he had spent the entirety of the day catching up on paperwork in his room. He was surprised when Quinoa visited him at the cusp of dusk and asked him to go get something important for her in a room down stairs, in the quiet, secluded part of the inn. Although he had been surprised by both the visit and the request, he was actually grateful for the interruption.

He just...didn't expect to find the room so...inviting and, yes, undoubtedly romantic.

But why was he asked to enter this room? Why was the room filled with the soft ambient and romantic glow of numerous candles? Why could he smell the tangy scent of curry? And why was there only one table with two chairs?

And, more importantly, if one chair was meant for him, who was meant for the other?

...They weren't doing what he feared they were doing, were they?

"Flavio?"

For some inexplicable reason, Flavio's heart leapt into his throat at the sound of Fafnir's voice and he spun around to see his childhood best friend walk into the room.

When Fafnir reached the centre of the room, he paused and looked around, his brow immediately furrowing into an expression of confusion. “What’s all this?” he asked, not sounding suspicious or annoyed, just curious.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Flavio managed to reply in a calm and level manner, of which was completely at odds at the thundering of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach.

Fafnir nodded his head idly as he continued to look around the room, but before he could say anything else, the door was suddenly slammed shut behind them, causing them both to jump in surprise. They immediately turned to look dumbfounded at the door, listening as they heard the sound of a lock being engaged promptly followed by the sound of soft giggling.

As Fafnir ventured toward the door and tried the handle. Flavio's previous feeling of dread returned with a vengeance.

They were doing what he had feared they were doing, weren't they?

He could barely believe it…

Despite the rain gently tapping against the window, the low rumble of thunder far off in the distance, and the flickering candlelight giving the room a purely relaxing and romantic feel to it, Flavio felt nervous. Being in such a romantic setting was a threat to his restraint to keep his true feelings hidden from Fafnir. He had been in love with him for years. It wasn’t news to him in any way, shape, or form. So he wasn’t foolish enough to announce it to anyone, let alone Fafnir himself. He couldn’t risk their friendship with an ill-timed confession, so he had stayed quiet all these years.

But the way the flickering candlelight was casting shadows across Fafnir’s face, amplifying the deep ruby-red eyes and drawing attention to his lips, Flavio feared that he may not be able to hold himself back.

Matchmaking…they were actually attempting to push him and Fafnir together.

How or why, Flavio didn’t know. And he honestly didn’t know how he should feel about the whole thing. Whoever was behind it had good intentions he was sure and the thought of being able to spend a quiet, romantic moment with Fafnir so openly was appealing, but…no, he couldn’t.

“What do you think they’re up to?” Fafnir asked aloud as he turned to face Flavio again.

Flavio swallowed thickly, the room suddenly feeling smaller than it really was. "They're, ah, they s-seem to be playing matchmaker..." he muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up even further.

Fafnir's eyes widen for a moment, but his expression soon turned into that of dismissive acceptance. "Ok, fair enough."

“W-what?” Flavio found himself spluttering.

Making his way over to the table set intimately for two, Fafnir shrugged his shoulders in a way that was kinda infuriating at the moment. "Thought I smelt a rat when both Chloe and Quinoa asked me to come here."

He was…he was being so casual about the whole thing! That was totally not fair!

But did that…did that mean he was ok with the thought of them being pushed together? Or was he simply dismissing it as a harmless prank, one that had no merit to it so there was no point in feeling nervous or annoyed?

Fafnir sighed suddenly and folded his arms across his chest in a somewhat irritated manner. “As per usual, you’re overthinking things and jumping to bleak conclusions.”

Flavio felt his himself flush and bristle with indignity. “And as per usual, you’re taking this so casually. How can you be so calm?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Fafnir quickly countered. “I’m with you, after all.”

That caught Flavio off guard for a moment and he found himself stuttering. “Yeah, but…I mean I’m…”

“What?”

“N-nothing.”

Fafnir dipped his head to the side slightly. “Nothing?” he questioned as he dropped his arms from his chest and started to make his way toward Flavio.

“Yeah, nothing,” Flavio said, feeling somewhat defensive and caged in. “Don’t worry about it, ok? It’s nothing.”

Fafnir narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as he paused to stand directly in front of Flavio. “Nothing as in you’re in love with me and you’re worried about ruining our friendship with an ill-timed confession?”

Flavio’s heart all but stopped beating in time with a loud crack of thunder from outside. “…N-no, that…”

“I’m a deadpan snark, not an oblivious idiot,” Fafnir continued with a small shake of his head. “I’ve been dropping you hints to, you know? But your tendency to be a self-sacrificing martyr has led you to dismissing these hints as nothing more than displays of friendship.”

T-that…that couldn’t be true, could it?

Fafnir suddenly pulled Flavio into his arms and hugged him tightly against his chest as he rested his chin on his shoulder. At first, Flavio stiffened awkwardly from surprise and shock, but he soon found himself relaxing almost bonelessly in Fafnir’s warm embrace, he, too, resting his chin comfortably upon his shoulder.

“Am I wrong?” Fafnir whispered into his ear.

Flavio sighed and wrapped his arms around Fafnir in return. “N-no, you’re right,” he said as his gaze fell upon the romantically set up table for two. “I’m sorry. I…”

“I know,” Fafnir said. “You’ve always been like this.”

“Sorry,” Flavio murmured again as he nuzzled his face against the crook of Fafnir’s neck.

How long Flavio stayed wrapped up in Fafnir’s tight embrace, he did not know. Nor did he care very much. He had never felt so comfortable, so warm. It just felt so right. Yet it also felt as if it had been a long time coming, something that was meant to happen and should have happened a long time ago.

“This isn’t so bad, now is it?” Fafnir asked him as he pulled back ever so slightly, only enough to allow them to stand face to face, there arms stilled holding each other tightly.

Flavio couldn’t help but smile as he slipped his hands upon Fafnir’s shoulders before leaning forward to wrap them comfortably around his neck. “No. It feels like…a natural progression for us, doesn’t it?”

“Hm,” Fafnir murmured simply as he leaned forward to gently…rest his forehead against Flavio’s, his arms wounding themselves comfortably around Flavio’s waist to keep him as close as possible.

As Flavio closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth, his smile softened into a tender warmth and he tilted his chin up a faction, causing their noses to brush against the other’s in a soft display of affection. He subconsciously tightened his arms when he felt Fafnir’s heated breath ghost across his lips, causing his own breath to hitch in his throat.

And when Fafnir’s mouth finally closed over his, everything in Flavio’s world became still. Nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing else existed but the two of them, their arms around each other, their lips gliding softly, slowly together.

Flavio couldn’t help but muse, however, wondering why it took them this long to get to here. To the two of them like this. Together.

A loud crack of thunder from outside briefly startled them, drawing the two of them out of their loving reverie and they slowly pulled apart. Not very far, mind. And very reluctantly.

“Food’s getting cold,” Flavio whispered as he glanced over Fafnir’s shoulder at the table set for two. He, however, made no attempt to remove his arms from around Fafnir’s neck.

“It can wait for a little bit longer,” Fafnir said before he suddenly readjusted his hold around Flavio, keeping on arm tightly around his slender waist as the other dropped down to the back of his knees.

Before Flavio could question what he was planning to do, Fafnir effortlessly picked him up off the floor, holding him up against his chest. Flavio uttered a sound of surprise as he gripped Fafnir’s shoulders in order to steady himself. With Fafnir now holding him, he was looking down at him in shock, while Fafnir with his head tilted back slight was looking up at him with nothing but utter warmth in his gaze.

And Flavio soon felt his surprise give way to sheer happiness as well and he couldn’t help but laugh softly. “What are you doing?”

“Just enjoying myself,” Fafnir said simply.

Flavio gazed softly down upon Fafnir before lowering his head to rest his forehead against Fafnir’s once more. “Who do you think is behind this?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Fafnir replied. “But they’ll soon regret it.”

“How so?” Flavio asked as he draped one arm casually around Fafnir’s shoulders as he toyed with his hair with his other hand.

Fafnir smirked. “They’ll soon be complaining about how disgustingly affectionate we are.”

Flavio laughed softly before he placed a chaste kiss to Fafnir’s nose. “Let’s give them hell.”

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

Hefting a reasonable amount of fire wood under his arm, Bertrand trekked back toward the small campsite set in a secluded corner of the Auburn Thicket. As he set the wood down near the campfire, he couldn’t help but allow his lips twitch into a small grin of amusement when his gaze fell upon a certain red-haired protector and pink-haired war magus.

Looking up from where he was kneeling in front of the fire, cooking their dinner for the night, Hrothgar sent Bertrand a small smile before concentrating on his cooking, doing his best to ignore the way Chloe was virtually breathing down his neck in anticipation of food. He glanced idly to his side, to where Wulfgar would normally be waiting for food as well, but seemed surprised to realise he was not there.

However, he needn’t worry. Wulfgar was happily munching on a large monster bone on the other side of the fire pit, leaving Hrothgar with only Chloe to deal with.

Since Bertrand didn’t need the constantly supply of food or drink to sustain him, he was content to sit on a fallen tree near the campfire and watch as Hrothgar interacted with Chloe.

As he finally placed the meat upon a plate, Chloe immediately made a grab for it, but Hrothgar lifted it higher, just out of her reach. She may be growing up fast, but she was still short with skinny little legs. Which was handy for the times she grew too bold and curious, where they had to literally pick her up and run. And that was something that was occurring a little bit too much for their liking.

Bertrand couldn’t help but wince at the memory of them inspecting that secret pathway on the fourth floor only to encounter monsters in the disguise of treasure chests. The foes, however, didn’t bother him that much. What did was how Chloe approached every single treasure chest they came across, regardless if they were an obvious fore or not, forcing them to fight and ultimately defeat all the mimics in one go.

After they had defeated all the foes and claimed the Yggdrasil Key, Chloe ‘proudly’ stated that now no one else would fall victim to these mimics. That was not what the brat was trying to do, yet they couldn’t argue with it either because she was also right.

She looked absolutely smug at the knowledge that she had two protectors and a beast wrapped around her little finger. Again, they couldn’t argue with that.

“It’s too hot to be eaten yet,” Hrothgar said as he kept the meat just out of reach of Chloe’s grubby little hands.

Chloe sent him a bitter glare. “Meat is best when hot,” she said simply.

Hrothgar shook his head slightly in exasperation. "Yes, but if you eat it while it's too hot you may burn your tongue or the top of your mouth, resulting in you not experiencing the full flavour of the meat."

Chloe immediately looked torn. Hrothgar had a very good point; but there was meat waiting to be eaten. She didn't want to burn her mouth and lose the flavour and texture of the meat; but there was delicious, steaming meat right there in front of her waiting to be eaten. The internal struggle was very much real with this one.

"Look, no one will steal if from you," Hrothgar tried to pacify as he lowered the food for her to finally take before adding for good measure, "No one would dare."

The corner of Chloe’s mouth twitched into a slight smirk, but chose not to say anything in return. She sat herself on a log near the fire place, placed the food on her lap before proceeding to impatiently wait for the delicious mounds of meat before her to cool down enough to be inhaled.

Bertrand couldn’t help but idly wonder how long it would take for her to snap and eat it anyway, regardless of how hot it was.

Seeing that Chloe was impatiently waiting for the food to cool, Hrothgar turned his attention back to the campfire with a small smile on his lips. He fussed about for a moment before he pulled the kettle away from the flames and poured the boiling liquid into a mug. He stirred the liquid for a moment before tapping the spoon against the rim of the cup and lifting it in Bertrand’s direction.

“Careful, it’s hot, too,” he said with that warm smile of his.

“Ah, thanks,” Bertrand said as he took the offering and set it atop his knee to cool.

Hrothgar sent him another smile before he turned his attention to cleaning up, storing the utensils back into their carry packs, to be in one place for easy access for just in case they needed to make a run for it. In the labyrinth, one could never truly let their guard down, after all.

Idly tensing and relaxing his fingers around the handle of the coffee mug, Bertrand found his mind wandering back to what led to him and Chloe joining with Hrothgar and Wulfgar to create a guild.

After the relief of defeating the Calamity and saving High Lagaard wore off, they were left with the overwhelming sense of ‘what now?’. Well, Bertrand was at least. Fafnir and Flavio pretty much had everything worked out and wasted no time in moving forward.

Only a stubborn man like Fafnir could keep his Fafnir Knight skills, take on the title of a noble of High Lagaard, marry his best friend Flavio in a lavish wedding, and buy a house for just the two of them within a couple of days. But he did it and is now happily living out his days as the devoted husband to Flavio and security expert for the guildhouse and the Grand Duchy. And Flavio revelled in his role as Fafnir’s husband, respected scholar of the Midgard Library, and fussy house husband.

It was good to see them so happy, but when Fafnir and Flavio officially got married, Bertrand and Chloe made the unspoken decision between themselves that they would not be able to travel with them through the labyrinth again.

No offense to those two; they loved them to bits, really. But there was only so much public display of affection one could tolerate before it got ridiculous. They would have had to wait until after they've proceeded through their ‘honeymoon phase’, one they had been in constantly since officially getting married. And from the way those two acted, that honeymoon phase was going to last for a few more years yet. They were bad enough before they confessed their unending love for each other. Now they were ten times worse.

Yes, it was possible. And yes, it was nauseating.

Arianna had to return to her kingdom for regal matters, but she frequently visited High Lagaard, and of course Fafnir and Flavio at their private home. They even had a room set up just for her when she visited. However, whenever she visited, Arianna appeared to be spending more and more time with Gadiel at the Grand Duchy, the two becoming very close since the defeat of the Calamity and the recovery of the King of Grails.

With the others having found their new purpose in life, that left Bertrand and Chloe wondering what they should do. Of course they were going to stick together. Bertrand couldn’t shake the twerp if he tried, but honestly he would feel awkward or uneasy if he didn’t have the little pigtailed witch following him around.
 
Continuing their exploration of the labyrinth was a given. When they first proceeded through Yggdrasil, it was with a purpose in mind. They didn’t have time to idly dally as they drew maps or completed quests. And there was still much more of the labyrinth left to be discovered.

And, to be honest, it was all they could really do at this point. For Bertrand, especially. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, after all.

They knew that they couldn’t get very far with just the two of them, though, even after everything they’ve been through. It was actually Chloe that mentioned the possibility of joining with Hrothgar and Wulfgar. However, her suggestion wasn’t that much of a surprise, really. She knew that Bertrand and Hrothgar had grown close since their first meeting. How much she knew, however, Bertrand wasn’t sure. She could be a little too nosy for her own good sometimes.

But after they had defeated the calamity and made their way back into town, it was made all too apparent that Bertrand and Hrothgar were a tad more than friends.

As they staggered back from Ginnungagap to Lagaard late in the night, Hrothgar was one of many who had been waiting for them. And he had pushed his way through the crowd to immediately hug Bertrand upon seeing him alive and relatively unharmed. He didn’t say anything; he just hugged him, his face buried into his shoulder. And Bertrand immediately hugged him back tightly, actually relieved that he was also alive and was able to come back to Hrothgar like he had promised.

Yeah, Bertrand liked Hrothgar. While he had never been comfortable with using that other ‘L’ word when it came to regarding himself, but he cared for Hrothgar a lot. He would willingly lay his life on the line for him and beat the living shit out of anyone or anything who would dare to hurt him in anyway.

So the decision to join up with Guild Beowulf made sense. A lot of sense, really.

Bertrand remembered vividly the look on Hrothgar's face when he and Chloe explained to him the reasons why they wanted to form a guild with him. And why they wanted to keep the name 'Beowulf'.

They didn't want to be known as the guild that fought against the Overlord and the Calamity. After everything that happened, after Bertrand spent over a hundred years walking around in a haze, they just want to be normal for once. Be simple explorers. And with Hrothgar they could do that. Bertrand could finally do that. Stability. Security. Normality. It’s something he hadn't felt in such a long time.

And under the name Beowulf, they could finally be free of their burdens while also allowing for Hrothgar, himself, to find closure and to keep the name of his fallen comrades alive.

After hearing those words, Hrothgar looked as though he wanted to cry, to shed a tear of what they had hope was happiness. Instead he drew in a deep breath and smiled warmly. “We would be honoured,” he said.

Bertrand especially remembered how beautiful he looked when he said that, and how difficult it was not to reach out and kiss the redhead.

Bertrand was pulled from his musings by the sound of someone uttering an annoyed squeak. He immediately glanced over at Chloe to find her sticking her tongue up and fruitlessly fanning at it with her hand. Seemed like she couldn’t wait to devour her food any longer.

Hrothgar tisked lightly as he handed Chloe a previously prepared cup of water. “I did warn you,” he said.

Chloe simply stuck her tongue out further at him as she took the cup of water and quickly drank it. Far from perturbed by the reaction, Hrothgar simply chuckled as he finished cleaning up. With everything finally packed away, he dusted off his hands out of habit before bending down to pick up a coffee mug of his own and made his way to where Bertrand was. He quickly sat down next to him, as close as their armour would allowed.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Hrothgar whispered softly as they watched Wulfgar boldly paw at Chloe’s plate, only to be threatened with a knife by said war magus.

Bertrand didn’t verbally reply. Instead he reached up to grasp the back of Hrothgar’s head, his fingers threading through his hair as he pulled his face toward his. Hrothgar uttered a small sound of surprise when Bertrand pressed his lips against his, but he soon pressed back, eagerly moving his lips against his in a slow, gentle kiss.

“Yeah,” Bertrand said as he pulled away from the kiss and looked into Hrothgar’s eyes. “Life is good.”

Chapter Text

Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, Flavio shivered as he looked out the window. It was a feeble venture, though. All he could see was white. He couldn’t even see the building next door, a structure that was a mere several feet away.

Turning away from the window with a grimace, Flavio glanced over at Fafnir, a small smile making its way upon his lips when he noticed that his friend had managed to start a fire in the small fire place. With the wind howling outside and the ice and snow hitting the windows, any warmth was greatly appreciated.

He could barely believe that he and Fafnir had been caught in the middle of a blizzard. In town, no less!

They had been warned that the winters in Lagaard where bitterly cold, the snow arriving in droves without a hint of warning. And Flavio took all their cautionary tales to heart. He truly did. But even so, he had not anticipated how sudden and severe winter would appear over High Lagaard.

He and Fafnir had been completing a few errands for the restaurant around the lower wards; Flavio doing most of the talking with the residents about what kind of dishes they would like to see served at the restaurant while Fafnir stood on watch in the background like a bodyguard. They had just completed their last errand when it started to snow.

First it was a light snow. No big deal, right? They’ve explored the Frozen Grounds of the labyrinth. They’ve trudged through snow while being chased by foes; they could handle a little bit of snow in town. They were in an urban area, after all. And the previous snowfalls were light and gentle. No biggie.

Until the wind came. And with it, sleet. And then more snow. Piles upon piles of snow, actually.

Oh, he was sure that  the phrase ‘piles upon piles’ was not the correct term to use when speaking about the steady growing banks of snow, but it was marginally better than Barkeep Cass’s description of ‘a fuck-tonne of snow’. Although, he was actually pretty accurate. It was a marvel of nature. Really.

The blizzard literally came out of nowhere.

Well, maybe not. When the residents of the lower wards immediately cursed and fled to their homes upon the sight of the first snowflake slowly drifting to the ground should have been a warning in of itself.

With the wind increasing in strength, Fafnir snared Flavio’s hand in his as they tried to navigate their way to either the inn or back to the restaurant where the rest of their guildmates were waiting for them. Well, hopefully they were still there. But as the snow grew deeper, the small rocks of ice battering their bodies, the wind stinging their eyes, they knew they needed to find emergency shelter.

They forced their way into the closest residence they could find within the blinding snow, thankful that it was indeed empty and they had not just barged into someone else’s premises with them inside. They would no doubt fear that they were being invaded or something. The residents of the lower wards were skittish and suspicious at the best of times.

Pushing himself to stand upon his feet, Fafnir turned away from the fire place to look over at Flavio. “There appears to be enough wood for two days,” he said. “Hopefully we won’t be stuck that long.”

“R-right,” Flavio said as his teeth chatted from the cold and he quickly made his way toward the now roaring fire.

There was a large two-seater couch in front of the fireplace and it honestly looked comfortable, but it also honestly wasn’t close enough to the only source of heat. The full body shivers were starting to set in, making it incredibly difficult for him to do much else but stand as close to the fire as possible without, you know, actually sitting on it and getting burnt.

“You need to get out of those icy outer clothes,” Fafnir said to him as he began to tug at his own winter coat.

He had a point. His coat was starting to feel heavy and cold, so he quickly took that off, dropping it upon the couch as he kicked off his boots. The bottoms of his pants were also clinging icily to his legs. But he was going to leave them on. For his dignity’s sake.

“Pants, too, Flavio,” Fafnir told him sternly as he began to pull off his own pants.

Despite how cold he was, Flavio blushed deeply and snapped his attention toward Fafnir. He opened his mouth to utter an indignant response when he cut himself off by sneezing. His sneezing fit lasted for a few moments and when he felt that he was done, his gaze wandered back to Fafnir, only to find him staring at him with an arch eyebrow.

“It’s just me here,” Fafnir said as he moved away from the fire place to look around their emergency abode, uncaring that he was essentially half naked. “Get rid of those icy clothes before you get sick from the chill.”

With the blush still adorning his cheeks, Flavio knew that Fafnir was right on both accounts. Staying in his wet clothes would only prolong the deep chill he was feeling. And it was just Fafnir with him; they’ve been roommates since childhood, so, yes, they had seen each other in various stages of undress.

Regardless of how long you have known a person, how well you know them, how much…ah, skin you have seen, it was still going to be awkward. Especially since Flavio saw Fafnir as someone more than a friend and someone different than that of a brother.

Swallowing back his pride, Flavio hastily undid the bucket of his belt and slid off his pants. He stumbled slightly in his haste to step out of them and quickly tossed his pants to the side before he abruptly sat on the floor as close to the fire as possible. He pulled his legs toward his chest and wrapped his arms around them in an attempt to stay warm. He was still wearing his thick vest which covered a good proportion of his boxer shorts, thankfully. So he wasn’t completely naked; he was still showing off more skin than he would like or was actually used to.

In a desperate attempt to pull his thoughts away from his internal embarrassment of his new predicament, Flavio glanced around at his new surroundings. The place was surprisingly (and thankfully) clean. Obviously someone had lived there. Perhaps they had sensed the incoming storm and sought shelter elsewhere. Or maybe they, too, were caught off guard and were snowed in somewhere else.

Whoever they were, wherever they were, Flavio hoped they didn’t mind him and Fafnir crashing at their place until the winter storm died down enough for them to trudge their way back to the inn or restaurant.

When he heard the sound of several doors opening and closing, Flavio glanced over his shoulder to find Fafnir casually poking around the closets and cupboards around the room.

“You shouldn’t go looking through other people’s things,” Flavio couldn’t help but reprimand.

Fafnir, however, shrugged as he pulled out a thick blanket from the cupboard. “We’ll leave them a thank you note or something when the storm dies down,” he said is a dismissive way before a slight frown tugged at his lips. “Getting you warm is far more important.”

Upon hearing that, Flavio couldn’t help but smile and he turned his attention back to the roaring fire. Funnily enough, hearing the concern in Fafnir’s voice made the winter chill fade a little bit.

He was…glad that it was just the two of them.

Flavio felt a sense of anticipation touch him when he heard Fafnir’s footsteps come up behind him. He listened as Fafnir moved about, sitting on the floor right behind him. Soon a pair of hands reached out to take him by the shoulders, and Flavio felt himself draw toward them willingly. Flavio couldn’t even muster a small sense of embarrassment when Fafnir pulled him back against his chest, positioning him in-between his legs. He then draped the thick blanket over the both of them, holding onto the corners while he wrapped his arms around Flavio, encasing him in a protective shell of warmth.

Flavio shivered again, but he was fairly certain it was not from the cold this time. It was from the feel of Fafnir’s heated breath ghosting against his neck as he rested his chin on his shoulder.

As Fafnir leaned his back against the side of the couch behind them, Flavio felt himself completely relax into his arms. There was no need to be tense or embarrassed any more. He was surprisingly a little bit grateful for the blizzard now. It was hard to find time for the two of them to spend together. Just them.

Sitting there together, just the two of them, in a private setting, warm and comfortable; it would be the perfect time for them to talk, just chat about everything but nothing at the same time. Yet, for some reason, Flavio didn’t want to break the comfortable silence between them. Instead, Flavio slowly positioned himself in Fafnir’s arms, twisting around so that he could rest his cheek against his chest, nuzzling his head beneath his chin.

Fafnir chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest, before he made a sound that was nothing short of contentment and rested his chin atop of Flavio’s hair. He wrapped one arm around Flavio’s waist as the other idly rubbed his arm, slowly moving up and down in a comforting manner.

The crackling of the fire and the howling wind was oddly soothing, but it could not compete to the comforting sound of Fafnir’s beating heart. And with Fafnir’s arms tightly around him, holding him so closely, so warmly; nothing needed to be said.

As Flavio’s eyes drifted closed, he smiled when he felt something gently touch his forehead before he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

Hrothgar was a patient and understanding person. Well, to a certain degree at least. He understood that a person's negative emotions could override rational thought. He understood that pain and desperation could push a person to do some truly life-threatening things. He understood what it felt like to have your ultimate goal rejected at the last second because, honestly, there were far better outcomes to consider.

He had been there, done that.

But he also knew that at times of stress, emotional or physical, that emotions could cause more harm than good. That there were times when feelings had to be put aside to allow for rational thought to take control.

And as he looked silently at the man before him, eyes wide and nostrils flared with sheer frustration, he knew that the best thing he could do was to remain rational.

Hrothgar was fortunate the he had such a rational and compassionate person to talk him down from his emotional driven suicide to defeat the Chimera on his own. He was fortunate that he had someone strong and reliable to aid him through his pains.

So he wanted to show the man before him the same kind of compassion and understanding.

But he was slowly starting to test him.

The man, a guard by trade, had just confessed his admiration and…lust-centric intentions toward him. And was waiting impatiently for him to respond.

But Hrothgar had already responded to his admission. He tried to be polite, to be understanding and tactful. But that wasn't what the man wanted to hear from him. He would not accept the possibility that Hrothgar simply could not return his feelings.

And it truly wasn't possible. He couldn't even pretend that there was a remote possibility. It would be unfair to the both of them if Hrothgar admitted feelings he simply did not possess.

“I understand that this is painful to hear,” Hrothgar said as he tried to stay rational and diplomatic. “But I simply cannot return your feelings.”

“Why not?” the man demanded loudly, prompting Hrothgar to be grateful that they were standing in the silent corner of the inn’s foyer, and not somewhere more public just in case rationality took a backseat to pure emotion.

Why not? That was a question he kept asking him. Why not? Well, there was a very good reason why not.

“Because he’s mine.”

Hrothgar all but jumped a foot in the air when an arm suddenly looped around his waist and he felt himself be tugged backwards into a warm and familiar chest. Though he stiffened out of surprise at first, he soon relaxed and had to swallow back a sigh of relief.

Fafnir…

When Fafnir wrapped his other arm around his waist, folding them securely over Hrothgar’s stomach, Hrothgar settled himself easily against Fafnir’s chest. He turned his head slightly to the side and placed his hands atop of Fafnir’s when the other man rested his cheek against his temple.

Hrothgar didn’t need to look up to know that Fafnir was glaring the other man down. And he couldn’t help but allow a small smile to slip across his lips. It always made him feel cherished whenever Fafnir was protective of him. And, surprisingly, that was quite a lot.

“I really think you should leave now,” Fafnir said to the guard as he tightened his hold around Hrothgar. “I won’t hesitate to drop you where you stand. He’s mine, no matter what. If I wouldn’t let the Chimera have him, I’m sure as hell not letting someone like you.”

Hrothgar felt torn between uttering a soft chuckle at the protective tone, flushing at the admission of their relationship or wincing at the threat as he knew it wasn’t an idle one. His cursed arm was quite efficient at delivering a swift, knock-out blow to someone’s face.

He had done that before.

And as Hrothgar glanced over at the guard, the grimace and the subtle look of fear on his face told him that he knew it wasn’t an idle threat either. However, an unexpected look of defiance suddenly appeared on his face.

“I could treat him better than you can,” he said.

Hrothgar unintentionally made a sound that was a mix of a snort and a scoff. A sound that was pure disbelief and scepticism. He followed that up with a sigh and reached out to grasp Fafnir’s right hand as he shook his head in exasperation.

“Look, for heaven’s sake, just go,” Hrothgar said and gave the guard a pointed look as he pushed his back against Fafnir’s chest in an attempt to stop him from actually going through with his previous threat. “Hanna doesn’t want blood dripping on her newly polished floors. So please leave.”

The guard continued to look defiant for a few moments longer. However, the expression of barely restrained protectiveness and possessiveness on Fafnir’s face must have caused him to second guess his stance as he took a half step back. He then took another before he promptly turned on his heel and stalked away rather quickly.

Fafnir made a low, guttural sound of annoyance as he continued to glare at the retreating guard. He did relax his agitated stance though when Hrothgar nuzzled his head against his.

“Another one…” Fafnir muttered under his breath.

Tugging lightly at Fafnir’s arm, Hrothgar managed to get him to loosen his hold just enough for him to turn around to face him, to stand chest to chest with him. “Impeccable timing,” he said as Fafnir promptly reinstated his secure hold around him and he in turn draped his arms comfortably around his neck.

“I told you you’re too beautiful without your armour,” Fafnir said to him as he continued to frown and peer around at their surroundings with true suspicion. “I can’t leave you alone for even a second.”

Hrothgar gave a small, half chuckle as he pushed forward and gently kissed Fafnir on the cheek in hopes to calm him down somewhat. At least prompt the man to turn his glare away from the direction the guard had disappeared in. “I was waiting for you when he suddenly appeared. I honestly wasn’t sure what he was rambling about for a few minutes.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Fafnir unexpectedly replied as he slid a hand along Hrothgar’s spine to the back of his neck where his fingers threaded themselves through his hair. “He was persistent, though.”

Hrothgar uttered a soft sigh when a shiver of what could only be described as bliss raced down his spine from the talented fingers massaging the back of his head. “Apparently, since he claimed to have feelings for me, I was in turn obliged to return them. Regardless if I actually felt the same way or not.”

Without any warning whatsoever, Fafnir tightened his arms around him to crush him up against his chest, one hand at the back of his head while the other stayed secure around the small of his back. The way Fafnir was holding him, his back was arched back at a slight angle, not enough for him to fall back, but enough that he had to grip at the collar of Fafnir’s shirt out of pure instinct.

Hrothgar flushed deeply as he skittishly glanced around at their surroundings, his heart fluttering with excitement and anticipation upon realising that Fafnir’s face was mere inches away from his. “We’re out in public,” he murmured, though did nothing to push the other man away.

Though Fafnir was physically stronger than he, he knew that a slight tap against his chest would have been enough for Fafnir to get the message and take a step back. So, even though he was embarrassed that someone might see them, he wasn’t going to be the one to stop…whatever Fafnir was planning.

And he soon found out what the swordsman was planning. Before Hrothgar could say anything else, Fafnir abruptly closed the gap between them to cover his mouth with his own. Hrothgar’s eyes immediately closed on their own accord and his mind went blank as Fafnir slipped his tongue past his lips to thoroughly inspect the interior of his mouth.

The feel of Fafnir heated mouth and talented tongue dominating him completely caused shivers of delight to race down Hrothgar’s spine, prompting him to unintentionally tighten his grip on his shirt. A soft moan involuntarily slipped past his lips when Fafnir momentarily pulled away from him to take a deep breath of air and to tilt his head to the other side, only to immediately press forward and take Hrothgar’s lips with his own.

Hrothgar was relieved that Fafnir’s arm was so secure around him for the way he was kissing him made his legs feel weak. At this point, he wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to stand on his own should the other suddenly pull away.

“Holy crap, guys! Right here?”

The sound of Flavio’s incredulous voice caused Hrothgar to snap his eyes open in surprise. However, Fafnir continued to kiss him heatedly for a few moments longer, either not healing the survivalist or simply didn’t care.

“Faf-” Hrothgar muttered against his lips and tried to push him away.

With a sound that could only be described as a disgruntled grumble, Fafnir finally tore his mouth away from Hrothgar’s, but kept the blushing and spluttering protector securely in his arms.

“Must you interrupt?” Fafnir all but snapped.

With his face burning with desire and embarrassment, Hrothgar dared not to turn his head to look. But he knew that Flavio and potentially Bertrand had caught the two of them essentially making out in the front foyer of the inn.

W-well, at least it wasn’t Hanna, right?

Though Flavio wasn’t much better. Hrothgar couldn’t allow himself to look and see that disapproving motherly expression on his face. He was probably standing there with his hands on his hips and tapping his foot impatiently, too.

“Hm? Couldn’t you even make it to your own room?” Bertrand suddenly quipped at them, sounding completely unconcerned and unbothered by their overly public display of affection.

“There are young eyes present,” Flavio added with a light hint of scolding. “You really need to take this to somewhere more private.”

Uttering another disgruntle grunt, Fafnir unexpectedly but rapidly swept Hrothgar into his arms and while Hrothgar was still trying to grasp the sudden change in position, turned toward the stairs to head to his room.

“You’re right,” he said as he easily took two steps at a time. “We should continue this in my room.”

Hrothgar flushed deeply and uttered a soft sound of surprise. However, instead of pushing the man away, he wrapped his arms around his neck and briefly wondered if he would have the chance to prepare himself, mentally and physically.

One thing was certain, though; he wasn’t going to be able to walk tomorrow.

Chapter Text

It was sunset when Flavio and his guildmates trudged their way back to the inn. After a long and somewhat unsuccessful day in the labyrinth, all he wanted was a shower, a quick bite to eat, and then a decent night's sleep. He was exhausted.

Wordlessly, they all made their way upstairs in single file to the second floor where their rooms were located either next to each other or across from each other. Flavio's room was closest to the stairs, a situation he preferred for it allowed him to sneak out of his room either in the middle of the night to walk away his stress and anxiety, or to slip out in the mornings so not to disturb his still sleeping teammates.

But as they made their way up the stairs, Flavio at the back and Fafnir at the front, there was a sudden pile up, as it were, just in front of the door leading to his room. He looked up when he heard Arianna ask Fafnir if everything was alright. But she only received a minor grunt in return and, surprisingly, Bertrand snorted while Chloe sniggered under her breath.

"What's going on?" Flavio asked with a slight whine in his voice. His room was so close. His shower and bed were only mere steps away.

As he pushed his way to the front, he found Fafnir staring, no glaring down at the floor in front of the doorway with a...pout on his lips?

Furrowing his brow in confusion, Flavio followed Fafnir's gaze. His confusion only grew when he saw what he was looking at. There was a small potted plant of small white flowers on the floor in front of his door. The ceramic pot had a dark pink ribbon tied with a bow around it and there appeared to be a small white card amongst the sweetly smelling flowers.

Flavio blinked at it for a few silent moments before he bent down and picked it up. The flowers were that of baby’s breath, if he wasn’t mistaken. He hadn’t a clue what the flowers meant, but they were quite beautiful and the scent was refreshing.

His first thought was that someone had made a mistake. Got the wrong room number or something. Or maybe someone had been malicious and removed it from its previous location and just dumped it here. He was sure there was a logical explanation for its appearance at his door.

Figuring if there was a name on the card that was hidden amongst the flowers, he could hand it to Hanna and she can find the true recipient of these precious little flowers.

However, as Flavio plucked out the card and flipped it over, his eye widened when he saw his name written in black ink at the top. And there was more written underneath it.

The note was short and to the point. And it didn’t have a name, other than his own of course. No one signed off on the card. No hint of who sent these flowers or why. Just a short sentence. Nothing more.

“What does it say, Sir Flavio?” Arianna prodded eagerly.

Flavio was reluctant to tell them, but felt he would have more control over this…troubling situation if he kept hold of the card and told them directly. He couldn’t handle someone tackling him and ripping the card from him to read it aloud.

“You're warmer and brighter than the sun itself,” Flavio muttered, his cheeks immediately heating up in embarrassment.

“Oh, how charming!” Arianna immediately cooed as she clapped her hands in front of her. “Did they leave their name?”

Flavio shook his head as he abruptly shoved the note into his trouser pocket, preventing anyone from snatching it out of his grip.

Bertrand unexpectedly placed an arm around Flavio’s shoulders before slipping around to hook him around the neck and he tugged him towards him. “Seems like our diligent survivalist has a secret admirer.”

Flavio didn’t know whether to feel surprised or embarrassed and he found his eyes wandering over in Fafnir’s direction. And he found his childhood friend standing stock still, his body tense, and his right eye…twitching irritably.

He, ah, clearly wasn’t happy.

So, his reaction meant…

“From Fafnir’s reaction, he wasn’t the one who arranged for these flowers,” Bertrand unexpectedly whispered into Flavio’s ear, his voice nothing short of teasing.

Flavio felt his cheeks heat up further and he sent the protector a hopefully scathing glare as he pushed away from him in a huff. But the way Bertrand’s lips twitched into a conceited little smirk, his glare wasn’t lethal in any sense.

“Ok, nothing to see here,” Flavio said as he balanced the flowers in the crook of his arm and opened the door to his room. “You can all toddle off to your rooms now. Shoo.”

Arianna giggled into her hands while Chloe smirked that knowing little smirk of hers. “Yes, of course, Sir Flavio,” Arianna said with a smile. “We’ll leave you to speculate who your secret admirer is.”

“It could even be secret admirers,” Chloe added, prolonging the plural.

“Oh yes! Sir Flavio is indeed very precious. He would surely have many who are enamoured with his caring personality.”

“He’s also adorable.”

“Oh Dame Chloe, you are right. Anyone could fall for his sneezes alone.”

“O-ok, that’s enough!” Flavio spluttered loudly. “Off to your rooms now! Go!”

Blushing a beet red, Flavio found his gaze wandering to Fafnir again and he immediately notice Fafnir’s right eye twitch violently once more. He was, no doubt, on the verge of grabbing the potted flowers and tossing them out of the window for the sake of principle.

“Looks like your battles for the day aren’t over yet, kid,” Bertrand said cryptically as he folded his arms over his chest and strolled away.

After bidding him good night and a surprising ‘good luck’, both Arianna and Chloe turned to leave as well. But Fafnir stayed where he was. Right next to the door to Flavio’s room. Positioned in such a way that Flavio would not be able to duck into his room and hide from him.

Heck, even if managed to lock Fafnir out, he would find his way in somehow.

The last thing Flavio needed was for Fafnir to try to clamber in through the window. Especially if he tried to climb in the wrong window. It would be left to Flavio to try to explain to the disgruntled explorer/patron that Fafnir meant no harm.

Instead Flavio sighed aloud as he pushed open the door and stepped inside, Fafnir right behind him.

“Don’t take your jealousy out on some poor, innocent flowers,” Flavio said as he trailed an idle fingertip over one of the small white flowers. “They’ve done nothing wrong.”

Fafnir’s gaze trailed down to look at the flowers, his eyes narrowed and his bottom lip protruding out in a subtle, but very telling pout. It wasn’t hard imaging the swordsman wishing that the flowers would just burst into flames or something.

“You should leave them outside,” Fafnir said, even though he just kicked the door shut behind him. “They’re suspicious.”

“Someone else might stumble into them and damage them,” Flavio returned as he set the flowers down onto the table next to his bed and set about removing pieces of his armour to get himself comfortable. “I’ll hand them to Hanna in the morning. Maybe she can plant them in her garden? They’re lovely flowers after all.”

“I can find you better flowers,” Fafnir unexpectedly said, sounding suspiciously defiant in some way.

Flavio stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Fafnir with an incredulous expression on his face. “You’ve never given me flowers ever.”

For a moment Fafnir looked contemplative, as if hurriedly trying to remember a time he had given him flowers, only for a sheepish, defeated expression to appear on his face a moment later. He quickly pushed that aside with that stoic look of defiance.

“Do you want flowers?” Fafnir asked him before he suddenly took a step forward and pulled Flavio into his arms. His cursed arm immediately wrapped around his waist as the other reached over and immediately slipped into his pocket, the one where he shoved the small white card in.

Flavio immediately squeaked out a surprised noise and reached out to snare Fafnir’s wrist with his hand. “There’s nothing else written on it!” he exclaimed as he tugged Fafnir’s hand out of his pocket and wiggled in his embrace. “And I doubt you’ll recognise the handwriting!”

Unfortunately, Fafnir managed to get a hold of the card and in his clenched hand, abruptly crumbled it out. Honestly, this guy was such a child!

“I could probably write something romantic,” Fafnir muttered as he dropped the crumbled card to the floor and wrapped his arm securely around Flavio’s waist to hold him close.

Flavio was unsure whether he should laugh or grimace. “Please don’t,” he said instead as he rested his hands on Fafnir’s chest.

“I can do romantic.”

“I’m sure you can, but I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

“I’m the only one allowed to woo you, right?”

“Yes, Fafnir. You and no one else.”

The corner of Fafnir’s lips twitched into a triumphant smirk. He then suddenly reached up and placed his hand on the back of Flavio’s head, and tugged him toward him so that he could press his mouth against his, smothering his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Flavio’s eyes widen a fraction and he uttered a soft noise of surprise. But he, of course, made no attempt to push the other away.

Flavio was startled by the sudden action, but not surprised. Fafnir’s jealousy was the huffy, pouty, and possessive kind. He also became ten times clingier.

He wasn’t jealous or protective because he feared that someone would take Flavio away from him. He was annoyed that someone had done something romantic for Flavio. It irritated him that someone tried to ‘woo’ Flavio with him around. And to do it so blatantly. He didn’t like to have someone ‘one up’ him, as it were. He didn’t like show offs.

Honestly, he was such a child sometimes.

Promising himself to roll his eyes in exasperation at Fafnir later, Flavio closed his eyes and leaned comfortably into Fafnir’s arms and allowed for him to kiss him as deeply as he wanted and needed.

A single kiss wouldn’t be enough to subdue Fafnir’s fierce possessiveness and protectiveness towards him, though, and Flavio was already anticipating having aching and sore hips and back in the morning. Walking around without a limp would be extremely difficult. But he would complain about that tomorrow. And maybe even order Fafnir around for a bit, to have him dote on him for the day to make up for it.

But…god help the poor soul who gave him the flowers should Fafnir ever find out.

Chapter Text

It was approaching midnight when Flavio found himself wandering into the empty tearoom at the inn. With the wind steadily picking up pace outside, the sound of the roaring fire was a welcome distraction. The warmth the flames emitted was greatly welcomed, too.

Slightly agitated that he couldn’t get any sleep due to the weather outside, Flavio raked a hand through his loose hair and shuffled his feet across the floor as he made his way to the comfortable chair closest to the fire place. He sat himself down, first on the edge in a fidgeting manner before he sighed again and leaned back into the cushion behind him. He was likely to be here for at least a couple of hours, so he may as well get comfortable.

As he leaned back into his seat, he idly glanced to the side, to the empty spot next to him and realised that it wasn’t as empty as he first thought. A thin book, like one of those gossip magazines he had seen vendors selling, sat open to a page, the pages before it folded back.

And as he read the title of the open page, he arched a sceptical yet slightly amused eyebrow.

Signs that you were falling in love? Gods, really? Those things were still around? He remembered books detailing flirtatious body language and checklists of a having an admirer since his time in the orphanage. They were even prevalent at the Midgard Library!

Flavio resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked away from the book and back toward the fireplace. He found himself musing about the magazine, against his will really. Though the book looked rather new, the pages seemingly fresh and crisp, he’d hazard a guess that those ‘signs’ where the same ones he had seen as a kid. And they were likely to be vague as well.

Heaving a sigh, Flavio reached out and snatched up the magazine. He had nothing better to do. He may as well entertain himself by reading the list. No harm in it, right? Maybe he could joke with Fafnir about it later. He was always bemused by the checklist as well, especially when they were covertly circulated around the orphanage like some kind of naughty little secret.

You always smile to yourself when you think about them.

Flavio did feel a smile slip across his lips, but it was an amused one. Mostly because it had brought up Fafnir’s image in his mind’s eye. He had just been thinking about him, so it made sense that he would immediately think of him again in response to the first ‘sign’ from the magazine.

Seeing them brings a natural, inexplicable smile to your face and they smile back.

Well, wasn’t that just good manners? Flavio always liked to greet Fafnir first thing in the morning with a smile. They would always greet each other, asking how the other slept as they headed downstairs to have breakfast together. It was their morning ritual. He would greet the others with a smile when they gathered at the breakfast table together.

Though, Flavio had to admit that he would find himself smiling softly whenever he watched Fafnir from a distance as he interacted with the others of their small guild. But it was because it was nice seeing Fafnir getting along so well with others.

And, thinking more on it, there were times where Flavio would inexplicably catch Fafnir’s gaze from across the room, as if Fafnir had been watching him from a distance himself, and the two of them would share a smile. But they were friends. What else was he supposed to do? Frown and stick his tongue out at him childishly? Not likely!

To Bertrand, maybe. But not Fafnir. Ok, he wouldn’t do that to Bertrand either.

While looking at them you can’t see the other people around you...you only see them.

Flavio was immediately reminded of the times where he had leaned across the table to wipe crumbs of food from Fafnir’s face, completely forgetting about the others around them. He had done that a couple of times actually. But again, that was just habit. Fafnir was a messy eater.

But so was Chloe. He never done that to her, though. Odd.

He also had to admit to himself that there were times while they were in the midst of a heated battle that his attention waned from their surroundings to focus in on Fafnir’s back as he battled against whatever monster was attacking them. But that was completely rational. Fafnir was their main fighter, after all. And his best friend. So of course he would be more concerned about his wellbeing!

You walk really, really slowly while you're with them.

That was an odd one. Though it did remind him of those late afternoons where he and Fafnir would walk aimlessly around the city together. Just the two of them. Sometimes they would pretend to survey the different wards in hopes of learning what kinds of meals from the café they should be advertising. But mostly it was the two of them wandering around, checking out the little nooks and crannies, and just generally sightseeing.

So walking around slowly made sense, right?

I and Me become We and you talk about the future.

Flavio had to smile softly to himself when he remembered a conversation he had with Fafnir the other night. They were sitting on his bed talking about what they were going to do after this…mess with the Calamity and the Fafnir Knight was over.

Flavio had mused about returning to the Midgard Library, but Fafnir wanted to hang around High Lagaard for a while longer. Maybe become explorers for a bit where they can actually experience and enjoy the thrill of adventure and freedom. They could even rent an apartment or buy a house. A simple place where they could do their own thing.

As long as that place had a kitchen so that Flavio could potter around in. Fafnir was the one to state that, prompting Flavio to retort that Fafnir just wanted him to cook meals for him, that greedy little pig.

Still, it sounded fun, having a place where the two of them could just crash and be by themselves after spending the day in the labyrinth doing whatever.

You talk for hours about nothing, yet everything.

Well, the two of them spending a couple of hours talking before climbing into bed to sleep had become a nightly ritual. Sometimes they would fall asleep in each other’s bed while talking. It was comforting, soothing after a hectic day.

They talk to you about things they cannot talk to others about.

Well, that was a given. Fafnir was his best friend from childhood, so of course he would know all of Fafnir’s fears and insecurities. And Fafnir knew all of his. There were no secrets between them.

Your opinion means a lot to them.

Well, Fafnir always did like to ask Flavio his opinion on something. Mostly on battle plans in the labyrinth, but also what they should do for the day, what quest would be doable, what they should advertise for the café, what armour would be better suited for the labyrinth. All reasonable requests.

Flavio would ask him for his opinion as well. Especially in regards of the study notes for the Midgard Library, whether the codexes he was in charge of where viable, how his performance was in battle, whether or not he should focus on scouting skills or bow skills.

Again, pretty reasonable.

They put their arm around you when they introduce you to their friends or family.

Honestly, Fafnir liked to put his arm around his shoulder regardless. But that was something he just did. True, he didn’t do that with anyone else. Only to Flavio. But it was still something he did often.

And in return Flavio liked to tap his knuckles against Fafnir’s chest whenever he introduced him to someone. Fafnir always stood slightly behind him or just off to the side whenever he introduced him, so it was a force of habit really.

By listening to his voice you smile for no reason.

Flavio immediately remembered a time where he was hit with a panic spell in the labyrinth. In his mind, he was surrounded by large shadowy monsters. They didn’t have any forms, just dark shadowy figures that were mocking him, screeching his name over and over again.

But then he heard Fafnir’s voice calling his name.

Immediately the shadows disappeared and he found himself staring in Fafnir’s red eyes, the other holding him gently by the shoulders. He remembered feeling so grateful to see Fafnir that he smiled at him in pure relief. And Fafnir smiled back at him, also clearly relieved.

You like their flaws and they accept yours.

Flavio snorted slightly. Fafnir was deadpanned, sarcastic, witty, and disordered. And Flavio couldn’t imagine him being any other way.

And according to Fafnir, Flavio was skittish, overly motherly, somewhat paranoid, and didn’t know how to look after himself properly. And he wouldn’t have him any other way.

They look for ways to surprise you.

Hm, that was true. Fafnir was often surprising Flavio in little ways. Most notably whenever he kicked down his door in the middle of the night and ordered him to go to bed!

That would happen practically every second or third night without fail, and yet would scare the life out of Flavio each and every time. How that man knew that Flavio was still up doing paperwork at two in the morning, Flavio may never know.

They give without being asked.

Well, Fafnir did have the peculiar skill to give Flavio the very thing he needed without asking. Like when Flavio needed a new notebook to jot down his theories and notes in, and not an hour later Fafnir came to him with a couple of new notebooks to give to him.

You worry for them, how they are, and whether they’re fine.

Well, of course he did! Flavio knew that Fafnir could take care of himself, but there were the little things like taking proper care of himself. Getting enough sleep, eating enough, ensuring that he was taking good care of his hand, the one that was, well, carrying that cursed scar…

He worried about his arm a lot actually. He couldn’t help it. Fafnir had promised that it didn’t hurt him, that his transformation into the Fafnir Knight didn’t hurt him. But Flavio just couldn’t help himself. He just couldn’t.

It wasn’t just that, of course. Fafnir was also too deadpanned and sarcastic for his own good sometimes. Though he has the ability to read the atmosphere, he would choose to ignore it and say whatever the hell he wanted.

That man couldn’t be left alone sometimes, honestly!

You feel comfortable and secure in appearing vulnerable to them.

Well, sure. They had known each other for years, after all. Flavio had his fears and doubt, just like everybody else. And he could talk about them easily with Fafnir. He couldn’t imagine doing that with anyone else but Fafnir.

Because, well he was Fafnir.

They go out of their way for you and you do the same for them.

Hah, there was no denying that. And he honestly had no problem admitting that he would bend over backwards for Fafnir. Give him the shirt off of his back for him. And he knew, without any doubt whatsoever, that Fafnir would do the same for him.

They love spending time with you.

Flavio unexpectedly found himself giving a light chuckle. He certainly hoped so!

Nah, it was pretty obvious that Fafnir did enjoy spending time with him. He would find excuses not to if he didn’t.

And, let’s be real; kicking down someone’s door in the middle of the night and then hanging around to talk for a couple of hours was a pretty good indicator as well!

You just know you can trust them and they trust you.

Pfft. That honestly went without saying!

The things that make you different do not push you apart.

Wow, that was also true for him and Fafnir. Fafnir was a frontline swordsman. A man of action. He was the one who got things done when they needed to be done. Flavio, on the other hand, was a backline fighter. He preferred to observe from a distance and plot the best possible strategy.

Despite that, though, they managed to battle efficiently together. Flavio would do the strategic status attacks or used his enhancing skills to benefit the party while he trusted Fafnir to do what needed to be done to keep everyone alive and to finish the battle as quickly as possible.

And finally: While reading this, there was one person on your mind the whole time!

Wait, what?

Flavio sat up straight, his back ridged and a roaring blush on his cheeks when he realised what had just occurred. He unconsciously crumpled up the magazine as he stared wide eyed into the space in front of him. He had literally forgotten what the subject manner of this checklist was!

Without any prompting, he had thought of Fafnir for the entirety of the checklist. Literally from start to finish.

Th-that stupid book tricked him!

“Flavio?”

“Fafnir!?” Flavio literally squawked out in surprise as he turned in the direction of the doorway.

Standing in the threshold leading into the tearoom, Fafnir arched an eyebrow at him as he stepped closer. “Yes?” he replied, rather sarcastically.

Doing the only thing any man in his position would do, Flavio unwittingly covered his face with the magazine and pretended that this wasn’t happening. Even as Fafnir took a seat next to him.

“What are you doing?” Fafnir finally asked after a moment of awkward silence.

Good question!

Ok, so…what now? One option was one where he could just pretend that it was nothing, throw the book into the fire place and scurry up the stairs to his room. Fafnir would follow him the entire way, wanting to know what happened though.

Option two involved telling Fafnir about what he had been reading, and what it made him realise. Ironic in hindsight that he would realise that he was in love with Fafnir by reading an article about signs of being in love.

After a moment of tense silence, Flavio decided that the best thing to do was to simply bite bullet and shoved the magazine in Fafnir’s direction. “Read it,” he instructed without looking at him. “And don’t say anything until you reach the end, ok?”

Fafnir took the magazine from him and Flavio didn’t need to look at him to know that he was staring at him in a quizzical yet dumbfounded manner. He didn’t say anything, thankfully. Didn’t question him. Only the sound of paper being smoothed out followed.

Flavio kept his gaze on the floor in front of him as his hands curled into fists on his knees before unfurling to idly pick at an invisible speck on his pants only to curl back into white knuckle fists once more.

The minutes seemed to tick by slowly as Fafnir read that article and Flavio fidgeted the entire time. The fact that he had remained silent, that he appeared to be actually reading it was a good sign, wasn’t it? Anyone else at any other time would have just laughed and mocked the article, right?

“I’m done,” Fafnir said finally.

Flavio idly twisted his hands together on his lap. “Who did you think of?” he asked. “Answer honestly.”

“You, obviously,” Fafnir immediately replied. Not hesitation in his voice whatsoever.

Flavio had always been grateful for Fafnir’s bluntness. And now was no different.

Unexpectedly, Flavio found himself chuckling before he started laughing softly in relief. He continued to do so as Fafnir slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him toward him. And completely willingly, Flavio leaned back and rested himself against Fafnir’s side, his head resting on his shoulder as he placed a hand against Fafnir’s chest.

“I can’t believe these things are still in circulation,” Fafnir commented idly about the magazine before he turned his gaze down toward Flavio. “And who did you think of?”

Flavio rolled his eyes at the question. The way Fafnir asked that question, he already knew the answer to it. That smug jerk. Instead of verbally responding, however, Flavio pushed himself forward and placed a quick kiss to Fafnir’s cheek.

Fafnir appeared startled for about half a second, but that smug smirk of his, one that Flavio had seen quite a few times, appeared on his lips. “I should think so,” he said as he curled his arm tighter around Flavio’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

He then dropped the magazine to the floor, uncaring of where it went as he reached out with his hand to caress the side of Flavio’s face. His thumb brushed against Flavio’s cheek while his fingers threaded through his hair at his temple and behind his ear.

And he was inexplicably tilting Flavio’s chin up towards him.

While Flavio’s heart did skip a beat and he did feel a trill of warmth race down his spine when Fafnir’s lips pressed against his, he also felt incredibly comfortable like this. Fafnir was kissing him, and it was exciting, and yet it was something that also felt natural. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation.

Just warmth. And comfort.

And the promise that there would be many more in the future.

Chapter Text

Flavio walked with a steady pace as he idly rebalanced the paper bag filled of groceries against his side. He paid little attention to his surroundings, however, as he was in the busy streets of Lagaard. And his mind was busy reaffirming his shopping list in his head. He was somewhat satisfied that he had gotten everything he was sent to buy, but one could never be a hundred percent certain, right?

He didn’t want to make it all the way back to the restaurant, only to discover he had indeed forgotten something. Unbelievably annoying, especially since he was the one who would have to trek all the way back.

A drop of something cold and wet striking him in the centre of his forehead was what finally pulled Flavio from his thoughts. He tilted his head back instinctively to look up at the cloudy grey sky. And received a rain drop to his right eye.

“Of course,” Flavio muttered as he rubbed his eye with hand. He uttered a sigh when more raindrops fell. It was going to pour down rain any second, he just knew it.

He had two options; run through it to the restaurant or find temporary shelter.

And after all the running he had done in the labyrinth that very morning, thought snow nonetheless, he decided to go with the second option. His calves were sure to thank him for it.

Thankfully, there was an awning of an empty shop nearby and while the few others on the street that was a short cut back to the restaurant were content to run, Flavio would have that one dry spot all to himself.

And no sooner did he step under the awning that it began to bucket down. Not torrential by any means, but he would be utterly soaked by the time he returned to the others.

The sky was a light grey in colour, so Flavio reasoned that the rain would not last all that long. Well, he hoped not at least. He hoped that it would ease up in less than an hour or so. If not, he was sure Fafnir would come hunting for him, as it were.

As Flavio dropped down to park his butt on the vacant shop step, his thoughts immediately centred on Fafnir. To be fair, though, it wasn’t often that his childhood best friend wasn’t far from his thoughts.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he was in Fafnir’s thoughts as he was in his. Although, being the leader of a guild was sure to occupy him more often than not. That was…reasonable, of course.

It was funny how the sound and sight of a steady rain, dripping rhythmically against the stone cobbled road and the canvas of the awning brought out a feeling of nostalgia. It was likely it due to how Flavio and Fafnir often found themselves caught out in the rain when they were kids. Out on their little adventures. Out exploring.

Ironic that they became explorers and adventures, huh?

Although…not entirely in the fashion that was considered normal. Definitely not in the way Flavio would have wanted.

Flavio sighed and fidgeted uncomfortably against the cold, hard ground. He tried to push aside the feeling of resentment whenever he thought back to certain…circumstances. Ones that forced Fafnir into being an explorer. Into being a knight.

Into being someone’s sacrificial lamb.

Flavio raised his hand and physically struck himself on the side of his head with the heel of his palm. Nope, none of those dark thoughts. It…couldn’t be helped. No one from their party was to blame.

No one.

With another sigh escaping his lips, Flavio tried to focus his attention on the steady rain fall. As peaceful as it was, the way the raindrops splashed against the stones, forming smalls puddles and pools, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to Fafnir.

And ultimately to Arianna.

He didn’t blame her for anything. He certainly didn’t hate her. Any resentment that would bubble up in the centre of his chest was from pure biasness. He had known Fafnir longer, after all. Knew him better. Of course, he would feel protective of him. He was his best friend.

And yet…

No, Fafnir was his best friend. A friend. Maybe a brother. That was all they would be. Especially…

Especially since it was obvious that a Fafnir Knight would choose to be by the side of their princess, regardless of anything else. The bond between a knight and their princess was undeniable.

So, the jealousy he felt whenever the two were together was pointless. A waste of time. Something he needed to get over. For Fafnir’s sake.

All for Fafnir’s sake…

“Flavio!”

Flavio blinked, startled by the voice from the very subject of his thoughts. He looked up, still sat on that vacant shop step, still under the cover of the awning, and out into the rain. Where he soon recognised the figure approaching at a steady pace, an umbrella over his head.

And the sight of him brought a small smile to his lips. 

“Looking for me already?” 

Fafnir stepped under the awning and lowered the umbrella to his side. “I figured that you would seek shelter rather than run though the rain.”

“Because of all the running we did this morning?”

“No, because you didn’t want to get back soaking wet and have me whine at you about catching a cold.”

The smile on Flavio’s lips grew a fraction bigger and he pushed himself to his feet, idly readjusting his hold on his groceries. His gaze shifted toward the umbrella that Fafnir had by his side and quickly noted that he only had one on him.

“Only one umbrella?”

Fafnir shrugged dismissively. “I could only fine one.”

“There’s three in storage.”

“I didn’t have time to look there.”

Flavio arched an eyebrow. “You snatched the nearest one and immediately headed out when you realised it was raining?”

“In search of you, yes.” Fafnir’s reply was blunt, but nonchalant. As if it should have been obvious. And, well, it was obvious. Still nice to hear the words, though.

And to know that Fafnir immediately thought of him when he saw the rain.

To be thinking of him…

Friends. Just friends…

It was hard to keep up that mantra, however, when Fafnir slinked an arm around Flavio’s waist and pulled him close, pressing him firmly against his side. It…was due to Fafnir not wanting him to get wet as they share an umbrella. Yeah.

Even so, even with his cheeks heating up unexpectedly in spite of the cold, Flavio didn’t pull away. He reasoned it was because Fafnir’s grip around him was so tight that he couldn’t. And that idea in of itself made him flush a little bit harder.

To be held so tightly…

Quit dreaming, Flavio; Fafnir had always been way overprotective.

“You’ve been overthinking again.” Fafnir had stated that as fact, yet held a light accusatory tone as well. 

“How do you know?”

Fafnir repositioned the umbrella over their heads as he tugged him to begin their trek back to the restaurant. “You bite the tip of your thumb and tap your foot incessantly when you do.”

Flavio blinked. “I do?” Seriously? “You saw that?”

“I know you, Flavio.”

…Yeah. Yeah, Flavio supposed he did.

“You think too much,” Fafnir added, lightly teasing.

“Well, someone has to,” Flavio quickly retorted, his tone also playful as they strolled idly through the rain drenched streets.

Fafnir gave a one shouldered shrug. “I think enough. I only need to know six things; where the threat is, what the best response is for battle, whether the map is accurate, whether everyone is safe, and what we’re going to have to eat.”

Flavio smiled, finding reassurance in Fafnir’s usual nonchalance. That was one of the more endearing aspects of him; his honest frankness.

One thing made Flavio furrow his brow in slight confusion, though; “Fafnir, that’s only five things. What’s the sixth?”

Fafnir turned to look him straight in the eyes. “You, obviously.”

Flavio was rendered speechless, only managing to draw in a sharp intake of air through slightly parted lips. His gaze was locked onto Fafnir’s, unable to look away. Unable to ignore the sincerity, the absolute fondness in Fafnir’s gaze.

“…You’re constantly in my thoughts, too.”

“I know.”

The rain had stopped falling as Fafnir turned to face him, releasing the umbrella to wrap both arms around Flavio. As the umbrella rolled away, Flavio unwittingly dropped his bag of groceries, letting it land on the wet ground. he would have to apologise about getting some of the ingredients wet later. 

He was far too focused on other things. Such as the way Fafnir had pulled him closer, his arms holding him close as Flavio’s own hands sought him out. How Fafnir’s face moved inexplicably closer to his, allowing for Flavio’s eyes to flutter close in anticipation. And the way his heart skipped a beat when he felt the warmth of Fafnir’s breath against his lips.

He couldn’t even begin to describe what he felt in his chest when Fafnir’s lips pressed against his. It was as if those lips, moving warmly against his was all he could think about. Even that nagging voice of doubt that often arose at the most inopportune times was silent.

Maybe he did overthink a little too much. Maybe the fact that Fafnir saw him as more than a friend, like Flavio did with him, was in his face the entire time. But he was too deep in thought to realise.

Well…one thing was certain; he wasn’t going to let his thoughts distract him now.

Not when Fafnir was more than capable of doing that on his own.

Chapter Text

"Stop laughing!"

A smirk spread across Fanfir's lips as he looked at Flavio. His brow was furrowed into a stern look, his bottom lip protruding ever so slightly in a pout. He had never been able to perfect a frightening or fearsome stare, but today he was far more adorable than usual. His sulking pout was accompanied by whole body jolts.

Flavio had the hiccups.

And like with everything he did, he made having hiccups adorable.

"I'm not laughing, I promise," Fafnir lied, inwardly laughing. "You make having hiccups look fun."

Flavio bristled. "It's not fun!" he claimed, through his hics and twitches.

"Have you tried drinking water?"

Flavio rolled his eyes. "Of course, I did. It didn't work!" Still "hiccing" away, cutely, and after every second word.

Fafnir knew he shouldn't find his best friend's predicament so amusing. Hiccups were not fun and they could be exhausting, if they were long-lasting. But he just could not get over how adorable Flavio truly was. It was almost unfair how cute. Just like his bout of sneezing. Or when he yawned. So kitten like. Made anyone and everyone fortunate enough to be witness to comment on how adorable and cute it was.

"Tried holding your breath?"

"Yes!"

Fafnir thought for a moment. "Maybe a fright?"

Flavio frowned. "That'll make things worse."

Probably. And Fafnir didn't want anything attempting to frighten Flavio. He couldn't do it himself. Besides, Flavio had an adorable little shriek when he was startled.

Hm, startle...That gave him an idea.

Fafnir stepped forward and quickly, and suddenly, pulled Flavio into his arms. The survivalist fell against his chest, Fafnir's hold around him clamping his arms against his sides, preventing him from pushing back. He looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth opening in order to utter a sound of confusion. Instead, he uttered a noise of pure surprise when Fafnir pressed his mouth against his.

After a few minutes, longer than Fafnir had originally planned but hey, he wasn't complaining, he pulled his lips away from Flavio. And the survivalist stood boneless in his arms, clearly dazed. Which, of course, made Fafnir feel utterly smug. And that feeling didn't dissipate when Flavio regained his senses and flushed darkly.

"What was that about?" he asked. 

"Got rid of your hiccups."

Flavio stilled before realisation filtered across his face. "You're right." His pout made a return. "Don't think you can use that excuse on me."

Fafnir tilted his head to the side, still smirking and still holding Flavio tightly in his arms. "I don't need an excuse?"

Flavio wiggled his arms free, only to drape them around Fafnir's neck. "No, you don't need an excuse."