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It happens so fast Varka can barely keep up.
One moment, he and Flins are shoulder to shoulder, driving back the Wild Hunt. But then he briefly feels Flins’ hand on his arm and Varka is thrown sideways so forcefully he rolls a few times across the ground before scrambling to his feet.
He hears the sound of glass shattering, a noise completely out of place on a battlefield of blackened sand. Varka turns to see Flins, his eyes wide with shock, crumpling to the ground where Varka had just been standing.
“Flins!” Varka roars, tearing towards the other man. He loses himself for a moment, panic gripping him in a way it hasn’t in years, as he cuts down every foe in his path recklessly, heedless now of his own safety.
He throws himself to his knees beside Flins, greatswords tossed aside carelessly in his haste.
Varka gathers the Ratnik in his arms, a fresh spike of fear assaulting him as Flins’ head lolls limply into his shoulder.
“Hey,” Varka chokes out, “Flins, hey!”
Flins’ eyes are unfocused as he blinks uncomprehendingly up at the cloudy sky. Varka forces his panic down as he scans Flins for any visible injuries, but he sees none. Flins is trembling now in his grasp, still too dazed to react. Varka swears softly, eyes darting around the immediate area, trying to understand.
And then he sees it. Flins’ lantern lies a few feet away, glass panes shattered, metal frame twisted grotesquely. The fire within that has always burned so brightly is nothing more than a weak glow at the bottom of the lantern. The dim flame flickers and Flins shudders in Varka’s arms.
For a split second, Varka can’t breathe, can’t think. All he can feel is the panic roaring through him.
“Mr. Flins!” Lauma’s voice cuts through the din of Varka’s screaming thoughts, “What’s happened?”
Varka feels a split second of relief before he remembers that Lauma doesn’t know, mustn’t know the significance of Flins’ lantern. His instinct to protect Flins’ secret finally snaps Varka out of his daze as he blurts out, “He’s fine, he’s fine, just overworked himself, I think.”
Lauma pauses, her brow furrowed in concern as she kneels next to them.
“Mr. Varka, are you quite certain?”
“He is correct, Miss Lauma,” Flins rasps.
Varka’s relief at hearing Flins’ voice is short lived as he looks down to see the Ratnik’s eyes are still unfocused and vacant. Varka needs to get Flins out of here, quickly. Belatedly, he realizes the battle must be over as Nefer leans over Lauma’s shoulder, a worried look flitting across her face as she sees Flins before she can school it into neutrality. In her hands, Nefer cradles Flins’ broken lantern.
“My lantern, if you please, Miss Nefer,” Flins says weakly, and Varka feels his muscles shift as though he’s trying to reach for the lantern, but Flins seems unable to even lift his arm.
Nefer delicately sets the lantern in Flins’ lap, her shrewd eyes flicking between Flins’ face and the dimming flame before meeting Varka’s gaze, her clever mind clearly beginning to make connections.
“I think it’d be best if I took him back to the lighthouse,” Varka says quickly, before Nefer can ask any questions.
Lauma is visibly hesitant to let them go, but she finally relents at Varka’s insistence. Throughout the whole exchange, Flins remains limp in Varka’s arms as Nefer looks on, a suspicious glint in her eyes.
Finally, Varka begins the trek back to Final Night Cemetary, panic still swirling in his gut. He glances down to see that Flins has closed his eyes once more, his body wilting against Varka’s chest like a dying flower.
Varka takes a deep breath, holds Flins a little more tightly, and picks up his pace.
The first thing Flins notices is that he’s cold. He can’t remember a time when he’s ever felt cold like this. He’d experienced the cold before, of course, but it had never affected him. And yet now he aches with it.
With great difficulty, he manages to force his eyes open to find himself staring at the familiar ceiling of the lighthouse’s living quarters. Flins blinks, puzzled. The last thing he remembers is the sound of his lantern shattering and Varka screaming his name on the beach of Starsand Shoal. Gritting his teeth, Flins steels himself for the task of sitting up when he hears Varka’s voice from the other room.
“Come on, come on,” Varka mutters, and Flins can hear him pacing, “Alice, pick up, pick up.”
After a few moments of silence Varka swears colorfully and hisses, “What’s the damn point of these things if I can’t even reach her?”
“Varka?” Flins croaks, embarrassed by the weakness of his voice.
Varka is at his side in an instant, blue eyes filled with worry as he cups Flins’ cheek and murmurs, “Hey there.”
Flins allows himself to lean into Varka’s palm, its warm, comforting weight pressing against his skin. Varka lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh as he says, “You scared the hell out of me.”
“My apologies,” Flins murmurs, fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open.
“Hey, hey, stay awake for me,” Varka chides, patting his cheek, “I need to know how to help you.”
Flins’ eyelids flutter as he tries to concentrate on Varka’s words, but all he manages to say is, “Varka, I’m cold. I’m so cold.”
He hears Varka inhale sharply and Flins is grateful he doesn’t have to explain why it’s so alarming he feels cold. Varka pulls Flins into his arms and cradles him close, and Flins realizes the knight must have removed his armor at some point because his head comes to rest on Varka’s unarmored shoulder. They both know Varka sharing his body heat won’t help much, but the proximity still offers comfort.
Varka tucks Flins’ hair behind his ear with a shaking hand and admits, “I don’t know what to do.”
Flins forces his eyelids open once more and he sees the worry and affection swirling in those blue, blue eyes. With a weak smile, he admits, “I am afraid I do not know, either. I have never experienced…this.”
“The lantern,” Varka starts, “It’s just a container, right?”
Flins nods slightly, fighting to stay awake, “Yes, it’s…it’s the flame that matters. I don’t know what…why it’s…why I’m…”
Varka hushes him softly and pulls him closer, “I’m trying to contact Alice, she may be able to help.”
Flins is too tired to answer, he simply gives into his fatigue and lets his eyes slip closed once more. The last thing he feels is Varka’s lips pressed to forehead.
A gentle wrap on the lighthouse door startles Varka awake. He’s curled up in Flins’ bed with the fae bundled tightly in his arms. Flins hasn’t stirred since he passed out earlier, and Varka still doesn’t know what to do. At a loss, he’d settled the both of them into bed, hoping to share his body heat with Flins, though he isn’t sure what good it will do. Varka had meant to stay awake, watching over Flins, but the day had taken quite a toll on him and he’d succumbed to exhaustion.
The knocking comes again and Varka lets out a soft groan. He presses a sleepy kiss to Flins’ cheek and mumbles, “I’ll be back soon,” before extricating himself from the bed. Only once he’s ensured Flins is well bundled in thick blankets does Varka finally make his way to the door.
Varka isn’t sure who he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t who greets him when he pulls the door open.
“Miss Nicole? What are you doing here?”
“Alice sent me,” Nicole explains simply.
Which, in Varka’s option, explains literally nothing, since he hadn’t even spoken to Alice.
“Ah…”
“We think I may be able to help your fae friend,” she adds cheerfully.
Varka wilts with relief as he sighs, “Thank the Archons,” and pulls the door open fully to let Nicole inside.
She looks terribly out of place in the dim, ancient lighthouse with her pristine white clothing and wispy blonde hair. Nicole looks around curiously for a moment before her eyes settle on the shattered lantern and she murmurs, “Oh. Oh dear.”
Making her way over to the lantern, she reaches for it slowly. Her fingers hover close to the metal frame, but Nicole doesn’t actually touch it. Closing her eyes, she seems to be lost in thought.
Varka waits, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, unsure what to do. When he can’t stand the silence any longer, Varka asks weakly, “Is…is it bad?”
“Hmm?” Nicole’s head snaps up and she looks at him like she had forgotten he was there.
“Is Flins going to be okay?”
“Oh!” Nicole looks down at the mangled lantern and the flame flickering weakly within it. She’s clearly hesitating.
“Nicole,” Varka begs, “Please?”
“I’ve been contaminated with Abyssal energy,” says a tired voice from behind him. Varka whirls around to see Flins leaning heavily on the doorframe to the bedroom, his whole body sagging with fatigue. It’s such a far cry from Flins' characteristic poise that the sight leaves Varka feeling like he's been punched in the gut.
“You shouldn’t be up,” Varka hurries over to Flins, wrapping an arm around his waist and letting the fae lean on him.
“He’s right,” Nicole muses, “Well, actually you’re both right. Mr. Flins does seem to have been absolutely doused in Abyssal power. Truthfully, I’m rather surprised he’s alive. A human certainly would not be.”
Understanding dawns on Varka and he looks down at Flins in awe, “That’s why you pushed me. You saved me.”
Flins blinks up at him blearily, “I…I pushed you?”
Varka forces down the surge of panic that flares with those words. What’s happening to Flins, if he can’t remember something that took place only hours ago?
“You…we were fighting the Hunt and all of the sudden you shoved me out of the way. Your lantern shattered right after.”
“Forgive me,” Flins mumbles, “My recollection of the past few hours is…hazy at best.”
Varka briefly presses his forehead to Flins’ and murmurs, “Thank you for saving me.”
A faint smile graces Flins’ lips as he replies, “Always.”
Turning back to Nicole, Varka asks earnestly, “What can I do for him?”
Nicole bites her lip, frowning as she looks Flins over and then his broken lantern. “Well,” she says slowly, “He needs a new lantern, and soon. The wards and protective charms on this one saved his life and his flame will need a new, safe place to recuperate.”
Varka nods, that makes sense.
“I imagine getting a new lantern won’t be difficult, and I can provide new protective wards for it. As for his flame itself…given time I believe he will eventually purge the Abyss on his own but…it will be a long and painful process.”
“That’s fine,” Flins sighs, “I certainly have time.”
But Varka won’t accept that. Not unless there’s truly no other option. No one deserves to suffer, least of all Flins. And Varka knows there’s no way in hell the Ratnik will sit back and let others handle the Hunt while he’s supposed to be recuperating. Varka frowns, thinking. He’s sure he heard of a way to cleanse Abyssal energy recently…
“The Honorary Knight!” Varka exclaims suddenly.
Flins and Nicole both look at him blankly.
“The Traveler,” he amends, “Lumine, she can cleanse Abyssal energy. Barbatos told me how she did that for Dvalin.”
Nicole’s eyebrows rise in surprise, “Fascinating,” she muses, “Simply astonishing.”
Flins frowns, and Varka knows what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth, “I wouldn’t dream of troubling-“
“Stop,” Varka cuts him off gently but firmly, “None of that. We both know Lumine would be glad to help.”
Flins sighs, “I do not wish to be a burden. I have already inconvenienced both you and Miss Nicole most grievously, I would prefer not to impose on the good will of another of my friends.”
“You are not an inconvenience,” Varka says firmly, “I am here with you because I want to be here. I want to help you.”
Flins shakes his head, a tired, exasperated smile tugging at his lips, “You’re so stubborn.”
Varka leans in until their noses are brushing, “And you love that about me.”
“I do,” Flins admits fondly, pressing a quick kiss to Varka’s cheek before turning back to Nicole, who seems to have become captivated by one of Flins’ bone puzzles.
“Miss Nicole?” Flins asks gently, and she jumps.
“Y-yes?”
“Do you think it feasible for the Traveler to cleanse my flame? She cleansed a fragment of Rerir’s body that was within my lantern before, but my flame itself was not contaminated. And I am unsure how such a thing would affect my person.”
“Hmmm,” Nicole muses, putting her hand to her chin, “I doubt anything like this has ever been done before, but it sounds like she’s successfully cleansed living things in the past, and your flame, at its core, is just another living thing.”
Flins nods absently, considering.
“I can head to Nasha Town to contact her,” Varka offers, though he’s reluctant to leave Flins alone, drained and vulnerable as he is.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Nicole says cheerfully, “I’ve already contacted her and Paimon, they’re on their way.”
Varka makes a mental note to thank Alice for sending Nicole to them.
“Thank you, Miss Nicole. You are welcome to stay here until the Traveler arrives, if you wish,” Flins says warmly, but Varka can hear the fatigue in his voice. He can also feel how Flins is leaning heavily on him, as if struggling to stay upright.
“As curious as I am to see this cleansing take place, I’m afraid I really must be getting back to Teyvat’s borders,” she demurs with a smile.
“Thank you,” Varka says earnestly, “Truly, thank you so much for coming on such short notice.”
“I was glad to,” Nicole says warmly. She then adds, “Now, Varka, please keep an eye on him. He should be resting as much as possible.”
“I don’t intend to leave his side,” Varka assures her.
After Nicole leaves, Varka insists on helping Flins to the table and preparing a light meal for him, despite the fae’s protests. Flins doesn’t have the heart to remind Varka that food doesn’t do him much good.
Varka bustles around the kitchen, probably more familiar with it at this point than Flins himself is. The sight of such a large, imposing figure humming to himself as he waits for water to boil has Flins’ mouth tugging into an involuntary smile.
“What?” Varka asks with a lopsided grin.
Flins shakes his head and says fondly, “Nothing in particular. I was just admiring how much domesticity suits you.”
Varka snorts and turns back to the stove, shaking his head.
They’re both quiet for a while as Varka prepares a simple broth with practiced ease. Flins knows Varka volunteers for cooking duty often amongst the knights, not because he particularly likes it, but because it’s one of the least popular chores, and Varka will do anything and everything he can to lift the spirits of those under his command. The knight is humming tunelessly as he pours out two servings of the broth and comes to settle beside Flins on the rickety wooden bench.
“Drink up,” Varka says cheerfully, sipping his own broth and wincing slightly at the temperature, “Or, maybe let it cool a bit. Although it probably doesn't matter to you.”
Despite his fatigue, this startles a laugh out of Flins, “Varka, my body can still be injured, including burns. Just because my life force resides in my flame doesn’t make my body immune to fire. It is a projection, yes, but a projection tied directly to me.”
“Huh,” Varka says absently, swirling the broth in his cup, “Good to know.”
Flins smiles fondly at him and shakes his head. He then forces himself to drink the broth Varka prepared. It’s not particularly unpalatable, Flins just has an aversion to food in general.
Varka suddenly groans and presses the heels of his palms to his forehead, “I forgot, you don’t like food.”
With a chuckle, Flins assures him, “Your broth was most palatable as far as food goes, and the extra sustenance from it will likely do me good.”
Squinting at him, Varka accuses lightly, “You’re just patronizing me.” But there is no bite to his tone.
The mood between them is light and comfortable and oh, how Flins cherishes moments like this. There is little he wouldn’t give to be able to bottle this feeling up and preserve it like one of his trinkets. Flins never dreamed he’d have true companionship again after his slumber, and what Varka offers him is something he’s never experienced in his long, long life, before or after his extended sleep. Every moment with Varka feels entirely new.
Love is truly a marvel. Flins snuggles closer to Varka on the bench. It’s not very comfortable, but he couldn’t care less. Varka is warm and present and real, and that’s all Flins needs.
Varka chuckles and in one motion pulls Flins into his arms and stands, “Let’s go somewhere a little more comfortable, shall we?”
Normally, Flins would scold Varka for carrying him around like a bride, but he’s far too tired. He simply rests his face in the crook of Varka’s neck and closes his eyes. Flins will never admit it, but he loves it when Varka holds him this way. It’s the safest he’s ever felt, cradled in these strong, steady arms.
Varka presses a kiss to the crown of Flins’ head as he walks. When he reaches the bedroom, instead of setting Flins down on the bed as he expected, Varka climbs into the bed with Flins still in his arms and bundles the blankets over them.
“Varka, you truly do not have to stay,” Flins says in a fond, exasperated voice, “I am fine, just exhausted.”
“Flins,” Varka chuckles, pressing their foreheads together, “Do you honestly think there’s anywhere else I’d rather be right now?”
“No,” Flins muses with a small smile, “I suppose not.”
Flins has been dozing on and off in Varka’s arms for a few hours the next morning when there’s a rapid knock on the door. Varka lets out a soft grunt of irritation, swearing under his breath when the knocking is followed by Paimon’s shrill voice shouting, “FLINS, ARE YOU THERE?”
Flins stirs sleepily and Varka sighs. Pressing a kiss to the fae’s forehead he says, “I’ll go let them in, you rest,” and gently disentangles himself from the bed. Flins lets out a tired noise of protest and curls up, burying his face in the pillows. Varka hides a smile behind his hand as he turns towards the door. It’ll be hard not to tease Flins about this next time they're alone.
When Varka pulls the door open, Lumine is scolding Paimon for her volume and he makes a mental note to thank the Traveler later.
“Varka!” Paimon greets loudly, and he winces slightly.
“Paimon,” Lumine reminds her tiredly, “Flins is supposed to be resting. So please be quiet.”
Paimon covers her mouth with her hands and says softly, “Right, right. Paimon is sorry.”
Something glints in Lumine’s hands and it catches Varka’s eye. Seeing him looking at it, Lumine holds up the new lantern for his appraisal. It’s identical to the old one, down to the crimping on the metal handle. It just lacks Flins’ ever present flame, and, according to Nicole, some wards, though Varka is none the wiser to their presence.
Taking the lantern from Lumine carefully, Varka asks, “How did you get a replacement so quickly?”
“We visited Illuga and Nikita in Piramida,” Paimon explains, flitting around excitedly, “They were able to commission a replacement for us. But they did say that it needs wards still.”
Varka nods, “Nicole said the same thing, but she also said she could take care of it, although I’m not sure how Nicole is going to ward the new lantern if she’s not here.”
“She placed wards on that bone puzzle, there,” Flins says from behind him. Varka whirls around and Flins nods in the direction of the ornament Nicole had been captivated with yesterday, “It will be a simple task to transfer them from the puzzle to the new lantern.”
Varka squints at the puzzle suspiciously, “If you say so.”
Flins smiles at that, but it’s a weary smile. Varka hurries over to him and wraps an arm around his waist firmly. Leaning down, Varka whispers into his hair, “Lean on me, love.”
Flins chuckles softly, allowing Varka to take some of his weight as he greets Paimon and the Traveler. Varka takes a moment to look Flins over carefully. The fae seems more aware than he was yesterday, but he’s still struggling to stay upright and the circles under his eyes are more pronounced than Varka has ever seen them.
“Shall we?” Flins asks, looking to Varka.
“There’s no time like the present, I suppose.”
“I’m not sure if this will hurt,” Lumine warns, frowning at the small flame flickering in its new lantern.
“It is quite all right if it does,” Flins assures her, knowing full well it’s likely to hurt quite a bit. He can feel the Abyssal energy inside him. It’s seeped into the cracks of his very essence and he’s fairly certain removing it will be an excruciating process, but Flins hopes he can mask that pain from Varka, Paimon, and Lumine. They’ve already done more than enough for him, it wouldn’t do to burden them further.
Varka sits beside Flins on the bed, his broad shoulders tense and his teeth set. Flins rests a hand on Varka’s knee and says gently, “I will be just fine.”
Varka’s mouth twitches into an embarrassed grin as he takes Flins’ hand and replies, “I can’t help but worry. You gave me quite the scare yesterday.”
Flins hums, leaning his shoulder against Varka’s and looking back to Lumine.
At Flins’ nod, Lumine starts cleansing the flame. The pain is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. It feels as though his very soul is being ripped apart. The pain is so intense he can’t quite stop himself from flinching and gripping Varka’s hand tighter.
“Stop,” Varka says quickly, “Stop, something is wrong.”
Lumine stops immediately and she and Paimon stare at Flins with worried eyes.
Flins makes to let go of Varka’s hand, but Varka holds it fast.
“What happened?” Lumine finally asks.
“It’s…the pain is manageable,” Flins says evasively.
Varka snorts and shakes his head.
“Truly, it is not-“
“Flins,” Varka says firmly, “Look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t one of the most physically painful things you’ve ever experienced.”
Flins looks away, which he knows is an answer itself.
Lumine’s brow furrows in concern, “I can try to cleanse it more slowly but it’s difficult to control the speed.”
Flins shakes his head, “It’s no fault of yours, my friend. I suspected this might be a painful process.”
“And you didn’t think to mention that?” Varka mutters.
Flins smiles slightly, “I neglected to mention my suspicions because a little pain needn’t stop this.”
“A little?” Varka demands, a frustrated edge to his voice, “You must be joking.”
“Varka,” Flins says tiredly, “The alternative is that I remain weak and helpless for the foreseeable future. I was made to understand this was your preferred course of action.”
Varka winces at that and mutters, “I just…I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
Flins cups Varka’s face in his palm and tilts it upwards, smiling fondly at him, “I will be fine.”
Varka closes his eyes and inhales deeply before nodding at Flins and then at Lumine, “Okay. You’re right. You’re right.”
Lumine looks between them apprehensively for another moment before she grimaces and begins to cleanse the lantern again.
Flins doubles over from the pain. Somehow it’s worse than it was a moment ago. He lets out a soft sound, gritting his teeth as he grips Varka’s hand hard in both of his.
Varka wraps his free arm around Flins and pulls him close, letting his forehead rest on the knight’s broad shoulder.
“Hold onto me, love,” Varka whispers into Flins’ hair, “I’m here, I’ve got you.”
Flins can’t quite contain the whimper that escapes him as the pain ratchets up another notch. Distantly he’s aware he should be embarrassed that Varka is coddling him like a small child, but he can’t bring himself to care. It truly feels like layers of his soul are being peeled away. For all his centuries of life, Flins has never experienced such pain.
Just when he’s sure he can take it no longer, Lumine pulls her hand back and gasps, “It’s done.”
The pain recedes instantly and Flins sags against Varka in relief. He slowly unclenches his fingers from around Varka’s hand and rasps, “My apologies.”
Varka snorts and shakes his head, reaching up to brush some of Flins’ hair out of his face tenderly, “You have nothing to apologize for, my love.”
Lumine clears her throat awkwardly and says, “We can um, we can go now.”
Flins shakes his head adamantly, “No, no, please. I must at least extend my hospitality as thanks for your assistance.”
“You,” Varka says, tapping Flins lightly on the nose, “Are in no shape to get out of bed, let alone host.”
Flins opens his mouth to protest as Lumine begins making excuses to leave when Varka adds, “Allow me to take care of it.”
Letting his shoulders slump, Flins mutters, “I’ve already asked far too much of you.”
Varka leans in close, his lips brushing Flins’ ear as he murmurs, “You could never ask too much of me, because all I have, all I am, is yours.”
Flins opens his mouth to refute that but Varka cuts him off with a quick peck to the lips and says, “Rest, we can talk about this later.”
Lumine is hiding a smile behind her hand and Paimon is grinning at them unapologetically as Flins looks over to his guests, “My deepest apologies, it seems I will not be joining you.”
Lumine chuckles, “Get some rest, old man.”
Varka halfheartedly tries to muffle his bark of laughter behind his fist and Paimon is openly giggling as Flins shakes his head and mutters, “Uncouth, the lot of you.”
Smiling, Varka helps Flins lie down and presses a kiss to his forehead, “Rest, love.”
“If you insist,” he sighs, though the effect is probably ruined by the way he can’t help sinking into the pillows contentedly.
Flins drifts off to sleep to the sound of Paimon and Varka bantering lightly in the kitchen and he cannot remember a time when he’s ever felt so content.
It’s late when Varka finally slips into bed with Flins, gathering the fae close to his chest. Flins stirs, yawning into Varka’s shoulder before he asks sleepily, “Have they gone?”
“Yes,” Varka says in a soft voice, “I sent them on their way with some warm cider in a thermos with plenty of time for them to make it back to Nasha town before dark.”
Flins hums appreciatively, snuggling closer to Varka’s warmth as he whispers, “Thank you, Varka, truly. Not just for taking care of Lumine and Paimon, but for all that you do for me.”
Varka presses a kiss to the top of Flins’ head and murmurs, “Of course. I’m here for you. I’m yours. Always.”
Flins shifts to wrap his arms around Varka’s neck and pull him close, their lips meeting in a lazy, content kiss.
When they break apart, Flins whispers against Varka’s lips, “You are mine, and I am yours.”
“Then I want for nothing,” Varka murmurs, kissing him again, “Because you’re all I need.”