Chapter Text
Saparata felt the cold wind pierce through his skin. The sun had already set upon the northern tundra of Yggdrasil and what was left was miles of untouched snow, the soft flakes rolling in waves of mist pushed along by the icy night wind. The only sign of life present in this frozen expanse was Saparata.
Saparata was not planning to keep it like that for much longer.
…There was something thrilling about feeling the sharp tinge of cold against his body left unprotected from the elements. A real, grounding feeling that left Saparata really being able to be one with his body. A body of which he planned to soon expunge off the tower he stood upon at that very moment. His frozen hands gripped the guardrail he installed atop the lookout of his tower.
Saparata deserved this loneliness. Clearly, there was something wrong with him. The world would never believe him and he would go down as a major villain in history. He had tried everything. He had panicked and ran at the mass assassination that unfolded in front of him in his own home. He showed up for himself at the trial at the Commonwealth. He was too afraid to die and ran farther and swam faster than he ever thought he could to protect himself when he was ruled as guilty for a crime he did not commit. He ran across the very bridge that at its core held mistrust and betrayal in the mortar of its foundations. He went to anyone that could’ve lended an ear to him and received rejection after rejection. He even impulsively wrote a letter to Fluixon, just asking why? It went unanswered.
He wasn’t worthy of being alive and he was tired. It was about time to give everyone what they really wanted.
Saparata loved the view, the stars brighter on a dark clear night. Saparata loved the chill of the wind that was stronger higher up in his tower than it was down by the snow. Perhaps it could sweep him off his feet without him even needing to make that final step.
He didn’t feel too rushed. It was peaceful up here. It was numbing. And this was quite a decision he’s made.
He stood upon a memorial he built for his own life. He stood with the roaring wind until his hands grew numb, his nose runny, and his ears swollen. Long enough to forget the chattering of his teeth and the involuntary shaking of his limbs. Was the shaking just from the cold, or from fear as well?
The expanse was empty and devoid of detail. Specks of snowflakes, where beautiful, are not the most diverse in their appearance from this high up. This made it very easy to suddenly identify two glowing lights traveling their way towards him from beyond the misty horizon.
Can hypothermia make you hallucinate lights? He stared at them for quite awhile, wondering if they’d fade away. Yet they never quite stopped their pursuit. They bounced in an almost erratic fashion, making their way towards Saparata quickly. He could only make out what surrounded the lights once they reached the bottom of his tower.
Two lanterns reflecting two men on two horses. Two lanterns hung on the sides of saddles and their glass casings shielding from the cold. Two horses, brown and white, loyally patient, and seemingly unbothered by the circumstances. Two men wearing fluffy cloaks and hats to help with the icy chill of the tundra. One of them with short black hair that poked underneath the fluffy defense. The same one, with accents of purple on his dressings and a shimmer in his in eyes that looked right into his own.
His heart dropped.
You’ve gotta be kidding.
Fluixon and Thomas admired the sword shaped ice tower as they made their rapid approach. Fluixon could not believe the tip he received at Infernus was actually right. To think it would be this easy to actually find quite possibly the Slipperiest Scoundrel on the planet, and all he had to do was actually go and see it for himself if it was true. And it was. He looked up at Saparata looking back down at him. Waiting there like a cute, innocent princess.
Meanwhile, Saparata had become frozen in even more ways than he thought he could be. His internal numbness melted away entirely by seeing perhaps the most terrifying person he’s ever known in his life. All he can wonder is, How? How in the hell did he find me? In the middle of nowhere.
Maybe he built a tower that was too easy to spot. Perhaps the torches that lit it aglow were actually an unnecessary design flaw.
Saparata could not regain any control of his body as he watched Fluixon dismount from his horse, and briskly walked towards his tower. The wind still being too loud, he spent an imperceptible amount of forever wondering how long it will be until the inevitable. Eventually, he heard him stomping up the stairs.
I left my sword and my armor in the chest downstairs. And my axe. And my phone. And my bow, and my arrows, and. This has got to be the worst timing possible.
A trap door was punched open as he heard someone brace against the floor and close it shut.
Maybe if I don’t move, I’ll blend in with the snow.
“I didn’t think my day could get much better than this,” Fluixon said, his voice laced with amusement. Saparata thought the opposite. This was worse than going to hell.
Saps, almost against his will, found himself turning his head back behind him. Feeling himself shift towards the side, as the worst dude ever framed his vision. His chest ached.
Fluixon was gently sprinkled in snowflakes. His hair poked out from beneath a warm hat and his nose and cheeks were stained pink from the harsh wind. He wore a black and purple cloak, and beneath that, peaked out beautiful, crystallized armor decorated with enamorate lapis trimming. Leather combat boots and gloves, and of course, the only thing sharper than his grin of victory was the sword strapped to his leg.
He’s really ugly when he looks like that. Saparata couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “is this level of ordainment another complex for you? Do you have to dress so aristocratically so you don’t dare have to perceive any concept of what you actually are?”
He saw his smile retract and his eyes loose their light. Flux looked away quickly, reframing his focus on the columns holding up the roof of the lookout.
A feeling of disgust hit Fluixon. Not just from such a comment, but from hearing someone speak in a derivative manner to his own felt frankly insulting.
“So this is where you settled down, Saps?” the nickname slipped out of habit, syrupy and thick with famility. “It could use... walls? A heater?”
“It’s a temporary living situation. I didn’t construct this place for fancy living in mind. It’s more of a job site and less of a home.”
“Really? What kind of job would be assigned to a place like this?”
One where Saps wouldn’t have to hear this grating voice for much longer. But he had more he wanted to say before he let himself drop out of this conversation. “So was your plan successful? Did it work out like you wanted to?”
“It was. We overprepared, but it has still worked out in the end, in our favor. The Barrens have civilians and leaders that are as weak as they are poor. If we did anything wrong, it was assuming that we had anything about them to fear. But of course, that’s still because of all the steps I took to ensure that they wouldn’t be an issue.” Fluixon rambled on with such a sense of arrogance that felt like it was ironic.
Maybe I don’t want to hear this anymore, actually. Saparata turned his back to Fluixon, leaning on the guardrail a little more and looking out towards the ground.
Fluixon pivoted. “Saps. Where is your armor? Did you lose it?”
“I didn’t. It doesn’t matter where my armor is.”
“It certainly does. You don’t mean to say you have the hubris to tank temperatures in the negatives? Especially in a state like that. Whatever you are doing is not so important as to have such horrible standards for your state of living.”
Saps snapped. “Why are you here? Do you seriously have to keep making me a problem that you have to fix?” He wanted more bite to his declaration, but his lips were growing more numb from the cold, and the chattering of his teeth prevented it from being as harsh of a retort as he wanted it to be.
“Clearly. You can’t seem to manage yourself without me.”
Ripe hot anger bloomed in Saparata’s chest. But this warmth that grew in him felt horrible. It didn’t heal his frozen limbs, instead only reminded him of the pain throughout his body, the energy being sucked out of him by the cold.
Saparata really looked at the man before him. Quite frankly the circumstances for this encounter felt extremely unfair. Of course he had to be found now, at his wits end, stripped of all his belongings or any defense towards himself. By his own hands, too. Staring at the mimicry of heroism before him, he thought about how all of this had happened to him because of the person before him. Some unnamed feeling crushing his chest as he thought about what could’ve been.
That feeling. There it was again. The sheer amount of pain and rejection that brought him here in the first place.
He can’t take this anymore. He needs to make this stop.
Fluixon suddenly crossed the difference between them in two steps, clasping open his cloak and effortlessly ripping it off himself with one hand. Showoff. He got within a breaths width of Saparata and reached behind his neck to pull the cloak around him. He flinched.
Saps suddenly realized something vital. This is my chance. I can take him down with me. I can end this all right now. I can hold onto him and jump backwards. I could see his expression of shock. Maybe even betrayal, just an ounce of betrayal that could come across his face that could almost measure up to a fraction of mine.
Saparata felt Flux’s hand unintentionally graze his hair as the cloak was wrapped around his figure. He gripped Flux’s wrist.
They stood frozen in place together and Saparata’s breath caught in his throat. He looked down at Flux (he’s typically even shorter - he must have gotten inserts into his boots to make himself taller) and he tried to gather more resolve to his plan. I just need to grab him and move backwards. That’s all I need to do. Yet, his body was ice. Every time he thought to hold onto Flux and lean back, jump off, throw him off even, he felt himself stiffen more and more. Almost like he didn’t actually want to. Instead of moving, he gritted out, “I don’t need your cloak.” Flux responded with a dismissive eye roll. Then he clasped the cape together. When he took a step back, Saparata’s grip on his arm relinquished itself and weakly landed back to his side.
That was his chance. He couldn’t do it.
It’s not too late. Step forward. Still, he couldn’t will himself to move. Lingering warmth from the cloak held him close. The soft cotton clung to his neck and arms like a hug. A stinging, horribly tingling feeling of needles grabbing him all over. Move. Just jump on your own, anything. He couldn’t do anything. He sneezed.
At the same time, Fluixon really looked at Saparata. He saw wide open eyes, eyes that held the insanity of someone that had nothing left to lose. Puffy red eyelids, a little too puffy to just be from the cold, but it’s not like he knows how long he’s actually been out here. He saw him shaking horribly, a mess of a man, entirely unarmed, yet adorned in paraphernalia of which he knew they had previously shared together. A diamond necklace from an early mining trip. A flag on the side of his head, wrapped around his hair with gold thread and drawn upon with a silly smile that Flux recognized as his own gift to him long ago.
This really was not the state he anticipated his rival to be in. Honestly he could compare the shivering man before him to look like a sad, pathetic kitten. But there was more than that. The lethargy he saw left traces of something much deeper. Saparata on the lookout of a tall tower in a place no one would find him. Saparata at the northern edge of the earth, looking down towards the ground with a sense of reassurance. Watching him step towards the edge made his blood run cold.
Flux knew better. He knew what Saps was going to do out here, but he buried it deep within the back of his mind. This was meant to be his victory. At the very least, his victory meant this man would fall by his own hands.
Saparata finally moved again. He lightly lifted one arm and clenched the cloak.
“I don’t need to be managed,” he muttered.
Fluixon resumed his show of arrogance. “Doubtful.”
“Why are you playing this up? You’re here to kill me, right? Just get it over with.”
He certainly could, Flux thought. “Not yet. It would feel... Unsatisfactory. Unfair even.”
“‘Unfair.’ I didn’t think you could understand a feeling like that.”
Suddenly, Fluxion blurted out, “You could go home with me.”
What?
“Not after what you did. I don’t dare touch that place again.” Saparata was too busy with the offense in even suggesting that that he had not considered the other implications of what the request meant.
“Not there. My home. In Luminara.”
“Luminara is not my home,” Saparata spat.
A beat. “I’m basically president over there now. I know where I’d put you. You would be safe.”
“Where you’d put me,” he echoed. He felt like this was yet another setup for him being strung up like a toy. Being used as Fluixon’s little puppet, an object. Something to be used and then left behind. Hearing him call that safe felt like it was laced with malintent so potent he didn’t even feel like hiding it.
“It’s better if I keep a close eye on my enemies,” Flux said nonchalantly. “And,” he started, quieter, “it’s too cold to be out in a place like this.”
Saparata felt dread bleed through his inaction. He began to worry that with his failure to jump now, he wouldn’t have a choice. The cloak held him down, imprisoned him. Wrapped itself around his arms like little strings. Lax threads that will be yanked taught at any moment. The dread gave him enough inertia to pull back.
“Being in a lions den sounds like a terrible fucking idea. I’m not going to that shithole country again.” Saparata saw his eye twitch.
Fluixon thought that he was bleeding his cards a little too well for his liking. The rejection stung harder than it should’ve. He grew angrier with his composure suddenly compromised.
Watching that anger grow in the armed figure made him shudder a bit harder than the cold. His composure broke over such a small comment. You know what? Good. He was furious with himself on why he still couldn’t just bring himself to grab this asshole and throw him off the edge. Even a small victory of pissing him off was worth it.
“You know what? Fine. Stay alone, asshole.” Fluixon turned to leave.
“Take your cloak.”
“I will not.”
“It will be a cold and long trek back. You need it more than me.” Saparata did not want to admit the comfort he took in no longer feeling the wind bashing against his limbs, the grounding weight on his shoulders, this feeling of suffocating care. Keeping the cloak is an admission of want Saparata refused to admit to aloud.
Flux thinks for a moment. He peered over his shoulder. “When I see you again, I don’t want it to be of your frozen corpse.”
This is the moment that Saparata realized that he is actually letting me go. Being forced under more of Fluixon’s schemes is a part of living for Saps at this point, and it was inevitable, but it wasn’t happening right then. Following that, he realized that Flux is willingly leaving this loose end in his plans untied to prioritize whatever weird intentions he has for keeping Saparata alive.
Saparata knew how particular Flux was. How he had to be perfect all the time, every knot left tied, never any loose ends. Ever. Nothing but the best. Hence the impeccable appearance he presented even here, to his worst frayed edge. Why?
He glared at the drop again. Strong panic built up in him. Another sense of adrenaline, feeling the depth of the drop, that now he was confused if he should still make. The confusion was scarier.
“When you see me again?” Saparata’s voice shook against his control.
Hesitation is bad. Fuck Flux’s plans. Fuck his own new plans. He gripped the bar. He was ready to jump.
Before he could, a voice came close to his ear. “Because you will see me again.”
A metal hand tightly gripped his shoulder. Sharp pain pierced Saparata’s mind awake as he was yanked away from the edge. He almost stood his ground, swore that he overcame the distraction and was already propelling off the edge. Yet he wasn’t strong enough for that. Instead his inertia was redirected, rotated around in an arch that followed Flux’s arm, as Flux maneuvered him away. He was led to the trapdoor, watched as it got stomped open, the wood splintered beneath Flux’s boot. Flux kicked it again for good measure.
As much as he was against it, Saps let himself be escorted down the stairs with Fluixon.
Halfway down, the adrenaline wore off and Saps missed a step. The feeling of weightlessness he was waiting for was finally gifted to him as he took in a breath sharply and braced himself. But rather than tumbling down the stairs, he was suddenly choked by the cloak catching his neck. Saps yelped as Fluixon sav- no, caught him.
Flux pulled the cloak back until Saparata was righted. Saparata, in shock, dared to look back behind him at Flux. He seemed livid, eyes wide and locked onto him.
“Keep going,” Flux demanded.
A surge of embarrassment went through Saps. He broke his stare and complied.
Finally at the bottom of the stairs, Flux stepped ahead of him. Then he made his way over to the front door. It was left ajar from when he entered.
He paused in the doorway. Looked at Saparata one final time. “Don’t make me regret this.” Then he slammed the door.
Saparata stood at the foot of the stairs. He could vaguely pick up the sound of snow crunching underfoot, a mounting of a horse, and the retreat of the two Conspiracy members.
He stood there for quite awhile. Long enough that once again his only company became the wind.
He eyed the stairs, but didn’t move. There wasn’t enough of a point to make the trek again. His body felt decrepit.
So what now?
There was a messy bed left in the corner of this lower floor.
Maybe for now, I can just rest. Sleep can be tolerable. But, I can’t hesitate again. I can’t let any of that happen to me again. If I’m doomed to be seen to the world as a criminal, if I have to die, he does too.