Chapter Text
It was only supposed to be a routine investigation. Just a day's worth to patrol Kipumaki Cliff before continuing onto surrounding areas. Yet it’s just Illuga’s terrible luck that he finds himself in the midst of a battlefield where his fellow comrades have been tainted by the Abyss, more monster than man as they fight each other, unable to differentiate friend from foe.
Illuga remembers falling asleep a few hours ago, only to wake up to the sound of battle and the whispers of the Wild Hunt. He sprang from his cot and snatched up his polearm and lamp, but his fellow squad members were nowhere to be found. Illuga swiftly but cautiously made his way towards the commotion and never would he have imagined seeing the swarm of Wild Hunt and his comrades who were no longer human, purple flames in place of their heads with a large crack in their chests, oozing the same purple hue of the Abyss.
Illuga doesn’t think twice when he charges forward and slashes at the closest Exile, trying to ignore its scream of anguish as it fizzles out of existence. Another Exile teleports behind him and swipes with jagged claws, but Illuga turns around swiftly and blocks its attack with his polearm, pushing the creature back before he redirects his weapon and thrusts it into the chest of the enemy.
“So… tired…” the Exile says until it too disappears just like the last.
Illuga grits his teeth and continues on, fighting his way through the throng of enemies in search of any survivors. He isn’t the only human left, he cannot be. His squad couldn’t have so easily fallen into the clutches of the Abyss, they were tougher than that and he knows it. They were all stronger than him, older too, with years of experience while witnessing the horrors every Lightkeeper must face. It’s their job after all.
“Illuga!”
He knows that voice. Illuga whips his head in the direction of where he heard Captain Olsson yell for him and his stomach drops. There are only two survivors it seems, besides Illuga, and both are equally wounded but Ivar is worse off, a crumpled heap upon the dirt while Captain Olsson fights back a hoard of monsters, bleeding heavily and clearly exhausted. Their oath lanterns are busted and appear to have not been useful in the slightest.
“Take Ivar and get help! I’ll hold them back for the time being!”
Illuga takes off in their direction and just as his Captain said, he makes a clearing for Illuga to get to Ivar who looks… dead. He’s pale and covered in blood and dirt, clothes mangled. If it weren’t for the faint sound of his ragged breathing, Illuga would have thought he was gone.
“What about you?!” Illuga yells back, gripping onto Ivar’s coat to haul him up, though it’s a bit of a struggle as Illuga is marginally smaller than the man.
Olsson takes down two more creatures. “Don’t worry about me! Just get him out of here and send for reinforcements. I will handle this, now go!”
Illuga doesn’t want to leave him here, they are not supposed to fight alone after all. He is about to protest until more abyssal creatures spill into the clearing and Olsson is yelling at Illuga again to leave and get help, soon disappearing into the chaos before him. Illuga, with tears forming in his eyes, fixes his hold on Ivar’s coat and begins to drag him back in the direction of their camp. He’d carry him on his back, but he just isn’t strong enough yet.
“Aedon!” Illuga yells out and the nightingale appears from his lamp attached to his belt, whizzing around him and waiting for orders. “Go get help, please!”
At the command, Aedon takes off and Illuga watches as his golden light quickly fades into the darkness of the night. He prays to someone, anyone, that it is not too late and that help is brought back in time before things get worse.
While they retreat, the sounds of the Wild Hunt fill Illuga’s ears and he tries to block them out, wishing he couldn’t understand their pained words.
“I’m not… ready to die.”
“If I can hold on… just a little longer…”
“I will live… and you will die.”
With tears now flowing down his cheeks, Illuga pushes forward and doesn’t look back. Only for his vision to momentarily black out as a powerful force collides into his back and knocks the wind out of him, sending him flying a few feet away until he hits the ground.
Illuga gasps for air but his lungs refuse to comply and he’s left struggling to get oxygen back inside his body. Anxiety fills him instead and he stares up at the night sky, unblinking, as he tries to breathe, to get his lungs to work again. There’s a flash of purple from his peripheral vision and he focuses on that, slowly getting oxygen back inside him until he thinks he can breathe on his own.
His back screams in protest when he sits up and has to twist uncomfortably when an ax swings his way, followed by a slash of claws that he unfortunately cannot dodge in time. White hot pain radiates from the left side of his neck and shoulder, followed by a gush of warm blood.
A guttural scream is ripped from Illuga’s throat and he clamps down on his bleeding neck with a trembling hand, trying to stop the flow. He’s not sure how deep it is, but it hurts, it feels like he’s been flayed open. His glove is immediately soaked with blood and Illuga knows it’s bad, really bad. How he didn’t die on the spot, he doesn’t know, but that just means that he has to keep on moving forward. Captain Olsson tasked him to take Ivar and get help and Illuga is not one to disobey orders, not even when he is on the verge of life and death.
The Hunter makes itself known again and Illuga manages to roll away just in time as the axe comes down right where he was sitting a second prior. With a hand pressed tightly to his bleeding wound, Illuga pushes himself up only to crumble to his knees, vertigo causing his surroundings to spin and for nausea to make itself known.
Black spots fill his vision and Illuga groans in pain, forcing himself up again. He staggers to his feet and stumbles to where he dropped his polearm, picking up the weapon and blocking a blow aimed for his head. He’s getting sluggish and it takes more time for him to slay the Hunter than usual, but once the monster is gone and the rest are still occupied by Olsson holding them off for their escape, Illuga snags Ivar by his coat once more and begins the trek back to camp.
More of his sight is overtaken by black spots and he feels increasingly lightheaded. He’s losing too much blood too fast. Will Aedon be fast enough to get help? Will Captain Olsson’s sacrifice be for nothing? Illuga powers through despite the excruciating pain and how he stumbles, accidentally letting Ivar slip from his grasp in the process several times.
“I’m sorry,” Illuga says out loud, apologizing to his squad for what they have become, the enemy of which they gave their lives up fighting against. “I’m so sorry…”
Illuga’s one arm is growing weak so he takes the one hand off his neck which was held there to staunch the flow of blood, to aid in pulling Ivar along. The sound of chaos grows weaker behind him and still Illuga does not turn around, afraid of what he may see or how he might just go back to aid in the fight instead.
Up ahead there are several floating orbs of light. He squints at them. Are they mandragoras? No, they flee at the first sign of danger and burrow into the dirt. Then what are they? The floating orbs grow closer and Illuga grows weaker, more confused and not all there.
“Hey!” A dark shadow, accompanied by others with the glowing orbs, shouts into the night. “Are you okay?!”
Illuga makes a quiet noise of confusion. “Huh?”
There’s more shouting and a screech from a bird and the shadows and lights get closer. Oh, Illuga knows what they are now. The oath lanterns and a squad of Lightkeepers which means that Aedon did reach them in time. Illuga takes another painful step and that’s when his legs start to give out. Arms reach for him and he’s collapsing against someone who is speaking way too much and way too fast that Illuga cannot keep up nor understand. He’s more tired than ever and just wants to sleep, for this night to just be a terrible dream that he will wake from and forget about come morning.
Illuga closes his eyes and another tear drips down his cheek.
“I’m sorry…”
The firewater goes down smoothly as Flins takes a sip from his glass where he sits at the bar of the Flagship. It’s been a normal day so far. He took an earlier patrol and later ventured to Nasha Town to have a drink or two before planning on returning to the lighthouse for the evening.
There’s been nothing new as of late which is a good sign, the less Wild Hunt sightings, the better.
Two lightkeepers from another squad sit next to Flins at the bar but avert their gaze from him. Not that he minds, of course. He knows that others find him a little enigmatic and cold, but there are no hard feelings. He likes to keep to himself.
“Have you heard about the massacre at Kipumaki Cliff last night?” One of them asks and Flins goes still.
“What?!” The other shouts, only to receive several looks from other patrons who then return to their own conversations.
“Supposedly, the Nightmare Orioles turned on each other. Heard it took several squads to get rid of the Wild Hunt and… what Captain Olsson’s squad became.”
Flins stands quickly and slams down a handful of mora, ignoring the startled expressions of the two lightkeepers at the bar. He does not stay to hear the rest of his story for he has only one thing, one person, on his mind.
Illuga.
When Flins arrives in Piramida, it is like the weather is also mourning the loss of the many souls that previous night. Dark clouds hang heavily in the sky, threatening to unleash a downpour.
Those residing in Piramida are quiet, unnaturally so. It’s been a long time since they have suffered a loss this catastrophic and it only causes Flins’ fears for the worst to rise.
Illuga cannot be dead. He will not allow it.
Flins tries to remain as calm as possible as he barges into Nikita’s office, forgoing a knock entirely. The man at the desk appears exhausted and drained, head in his hands as he stares at the stack of papers in front of him. The casualty reports.
“Is Young Master Illuga—“
“He’s alive. Injured, but alive.”
The relief is instant and Flins finds himself relaxing somewhat at the news. Still, hearing of the heavy losses does nothing to quell the sadness and grief that he feels alongside everyone else. For he has found a home for himself within the Lightkeepers during the several years since waking from his long slumber.
“He’s at the clinic,” Nikita continues and focuses his attention back on the reports. “I will stop by later to see him and to give you an update.”
Flins is out the door, a brief thanks leaving his mouth. He passes by Illuga’s house on the way and looks mournfully at it and the mailbox crammed with letters. Illuga is rarely home now, always out on patrol and keeping busy. Flins is happy for him, but he wishes Illuga would learn to take things easy and take a break every now and then.
There have been many instances where Flins is needed at headquarters and he always makes an effort to stop by and see Illuga afterwards, only to learn that he is off delivering supplies or on another patrol that he volunteered for on top of his already existing duties.
Nikita lets him, much to Flins’ annoyance, and he often disagrees with his superior about it. But Nikita reminds him that it is just Illuga’s nature to help and that if he were to hold him back, he’d be like a bird with clipped wings, unable to fly away and grow into the man he is today.
A man with too big of a heart and a sorrowful past that he can no longer remember.
When Flins gets to the clinic, the medical team, which is really only composed of very few doctors, wander about, tending to their patients from the most recent attack.
Several cots are separated by partitions so Flins is not able to decipher which one hides Illuga. He stops a doctor as she passes by and is directed to a cot in the corner, a partition drawn to give him some privacy.
When Flins finally sees Illuga, the flames within his lantern flicker violently until he reminds himself to calm down. Illuga lies unconscious, bandages wrapped around his neck, shoulder, and upper torso with a cryo-infused pack wrapped in cloth lying across his ribs. His skin is unnaturally pale and he’s covered in scrapes and bruises which are fortunately superficial and do not require extensive treatment.
Aedon is a puffed up ball where he sits on Illuga’s uninjured shoulder. He perks his tiny head up and gives Flins a quiet chirp before settling down again, tucking his head under a wing.
Flins takes a seat on the chair next to the cot and reaches over without hesitation to brush hair out of Illuga’s face, only to notice the way the hair on the left side of his head is marginally shorter than the right, chopped clean off in the attack.
The same doctor from before steps behind the partition, but Flins notices her presence and speaks before she has the chance to.
“How is he?”
She startles a little but quickly composes herself and replies, “Despite obtaining numerous injuries, he’s doing well so far but is not out of the clear just yet. He lost a lot of blood and has a few broken ribs. The wound on his neck is large and quite deep, extending all the way to his shoulder. It’s a wonder how he didn’t…”
She doesn’t finish her sentence but Flins knows exactly what she would have said. Illuga should be dead, but he isn’t and Flins would pray to a higher being if he was religious.
“Is he in pain?”
“No, not currently. We gave him something to help with it but he’ll most likely be out of it when he wakes—that, I am unsure of, but we are monitoring him closely.”
Flins thanks her as she takes her leave and focuses back on Illuga’s sleeping form. He appears so small right now, injured as he is, and Flins wants nothing more than to pull him into his arms and never let go. To shelter him from the world and its horrors. He’s too young to go through this, to almost die not once, but twice. Flins hopes that there is not a third.
Illuga’s messy hair gains Flins’ attention again and so he cards his fingers through the strands, working the knots out to try and help him not look so disheveled. There is not a single twitch nor slight movement from Illuga, still unconscious and in deep sleep, or wherever the mind and body goes once the recovery aspect begins after being gravely injured.
Half of Flins wishes Illuga would wake, to know that he truly is okay and alive. The other half wants him to take as long as he needs to sleep so that he can heal properly.
“All you do is give me a reason to worry about you,” Flins whispers to Illuga even though he cannot hear nor understand him. “But trust that I will be there to care for you in the end. For as long as it takes.”
Around an hour later, Nikita finally comes to visit and somehow, he looks more tired than before and like he has aged another ten years. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, just watching Illuga and most likely making sure that he is breathing, that the soft rise and fall of his chest is not just a figment of his imagination.
“I am sealing off Kipumaki Cliff and no one is allowed to be in the vicinity of it,” Nikita finally says. “Cliffwatch Camp has been destroyed and I do not want to put anyone else into danger by having it rebuilt at this time. The Wild Hunt that stormed into the camp have been taken care of, but we lost many ratniki in the attack, including innocent citizens... I fear that something strange is going on and it is worrisome.”
“Would you like for me to investigate?” Flins asks. Nikita has known of his true identity as a fae for many years. That he is sturdier than a mere mortal, no matter how skilled of a soldier they may be. But Flins can still fall for he is not immune to death.
“No. I do not want to lose anyone else.” Nikita finally turns to Flins. “I trust you and know of your capabilities, but I fear that the seal is weakening which caused the Wild Hunt to attack like it did. I would like to wait it out and see if anything changes, but now is not the time.”
500 years ago, a sealing array was placed to hold back Rotwang by the Lightkeepers’ founder, Solovei, and Alia, a Frostmoon Scion. Throughout those hundreds of years, age has weakened the seal and it is only a matter of time before it fails completely.
“What of the others?”
“Illuga and Ivar are the only ones left, but Ivar is in a much worse state. I’m afraid he will never be able to perform normal duties ever again,” Nikita’s voice is gruff. “Captain Olsson sacrificed himself to save those two and Illuga was the one who got Ivar out of there. He sent Aedon to get reinforcements, but several never came back in the end. There are… no bodies to bury.”
The statement brings Flins back years ago where he was woken from his long slumber to help fight back against the Wild Hunt that had stormed the beaches of his resting spot, a place now known as Final Night Cemetery. He too was the only one to make it out alive and with no one to bury in the end. Yet he erected tombstones for those who he had fought alongside so that their efforts would not be forgotten and to memorialize those who had died in the line of duty.
“If you wish, I can help put those who have fallen to rest,” Flins offers. “I’m something of an expert you see.”
“Very well.”
As if sensing the gloomy atmosphere, Aedon fluffs his golden feathers before hopping down from Illuga’s shoulder where he then steps onto an offered finger.
“And Illuga’s lamp?”
“Broken. It’ll need to be replaced, but I know that boy has grown attached to it so it’d be best to get it repaired. That young girl, Aino, was it? I heard she’s incredibly talented and can fix almost anything. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like for you to have it repaired by her. I’m sure Illuga and Aedon will appreciate it.”
The nightingale gives a chirp in agreement.
“And one more thing,” Nikita continues, petting Aedon’s tiny head. “Keep an eye on him, will you? Not just now but also after he wakes. That boy is going to blame himself for what happened and I trust you to steer him in the right direction. He has already been through too much; I don’t want this to become his breaking point.”
Flins hums in acknowledgment. “Rest assured, I will do my best to make sure he is well taken care of.”
Aedon hops down from his temporary perch to settle upon Illuga’s shoulder once more, a protective little ball of golden kuuvahki. It seems he and Flins are to watch over him together.
Nikita pats Flins on the shoulder. “I’ll leave him to you then.”
“Leave him to me as in…” Flins responds in a teasing lilt, trying to lighten the mood.
“That is not what I meant, and you know it,” Nikita says, shooting Flins a look. “We will talk about that later.”
Nikita then leaves and Flins slips one of Illuga's hands into his. Without his gloves, his hands look even smaller, fitting perfectly in Flins' palm. He brings Illuga's hand up to his mouth and places a soft kiss upon his scarred knuckles as he watches his chest rise and fall.
Illuga does not wake the next morning.
Flins uses that time to take Illuga’s busted lamp to get repaired by Aino and has to dodge another one of her attempts to get him to stay for a lecture, declaring that he must head back to Pirimida and watch over Illuga. It is the truth after all, and he makes a promise with her to bring along a dessert when he comes to pick up Illuga’s lamp which earns a gleeful response in return.
Before going back, Flins stops by the lighthouse to gather a few things he will need, considering he will be away for some time to take care of Illuga. He doesn’t need much, just a few books to keep himself busy and some clothes to wear.
But as he is about to leave, he passes by one of the several decorative boxes containing his collection of jewelry, gems, and coins. Flins pulls a box down and picks out a ruby red earring then places it carefully into a smaller, padded box for safekeeping which is then placed within his bag.
When Flins returns to the clinic, Illuga is still sound asleep. He looks marginally better, no longer pale but with some color back in his face and a healthy flush of pink on his cheeks. A fresh cryo-infused pack is lying across his ribs again to help reduce swelling.
A doctor had stopped by earlier that morning to check on him and gave him another dose of pain medication. Illuga was still unconscious then, but his face had begun to scrunch up in pain and his skin had turned pale and clammy. Flins only left after seeing that the medication was beginning to work when Illuga started to relax.
Aedon has yet to leave his side, considering he no longer has Illuga’s lamp to hide within, but he appears to be making himself at home from where he is nestled in Illuga’s soft hair upon the top of his head.
Flins sits in the chair again and pulls out a book this time to keep himself busy. He slips one of his hands into Illuga’s while he reads and glances over every so often to make sure he is okay.
Sometime in the afternoon, Illuga’s hand twitches where it is still within Flins’ grasp and he closes the book to focus his full attention on Illuga, waiting in anticipation as he finally comes out of unconsciousness.
Illuga’s eyelids flutter then blink open and Flins gives him a soft smile when he turns his head towards him.
“Welcome back, Young Master Illuga.”
Illuga says nothing back. He just stares at Flins and it's a little unnerving which is strange because Flins, according to others, is the one who is unnerving, not the other way around. The pain medication must be working then.
After a solid minute of Illuga's staring that is now paired with a lopsided grin, he finally says with a hoarse voice, "You're really pretty, Sir Flins."
Flins' metaphorical heart skips a beat.
"Am I now?"
Illuga nods. He pulls his hand out from Flins’ grasp to press it against Flins’ cheek. Illuga's skin is nice and warm, a contrast to the chill of his own.
"Cold." Illuga frowns. He looks down at the blanket laid over his lower half and starts pulling on it but it gets caught on his legs and he makes a frustrated noise.
"Do not worry about me, I am perfectly fine," Flins reassures him and bites back a laugh at the pout on Illuga's face. He holds Illuga's hand to his cheek and the heat from his skin begins seeping into his own. "See, I'm already warming up."
Apparently, that makes Illuga happy and the pout is gone from his face, replaced with the same lopsided grin. Already, his eyelids are starting to droop and he's fighting back a yawn. That will not do.
Continuing to hold Illuga's hand to his cheek, Flins adjusts the blanket over him so it's covering half his torso while being mindful of the bandaging. He rests his palm on Illuga's chest, tapping his fingers to a steady beat that pulls him into sleep's embrace.
"Sleep well, Illuga. I will be here when you wake."
Pain. That’s all he can feel along with hearing the screams and cries of his fallen comrades. The whispers of the Wild Hunt calling from the darkness, mocking him for fleeing and leaving his squad behind to die.
Hot, sticky blood covers his skin and clothes and stains the dirt below him. He’s dying, just like Ivar is, or has he already met his end? He probably has, considering the way he too bleeds out and how his legs don’t look quite right, bent in odd ways. They must be broken.
He’s so tired and the pain is only getting worse. His lungs struggle for air and every breath he takes, it feels like he’s getting stabbed in the lungs.
Tears stream down his face and all he can do is cry as he drags Ivar behind him. He pleads that this is all just a nightmare. So that when he wakes, his squad will be alive and healthy, saying good morning to him and having a bowl of bland porridge shoved into his hands for breakfast before they set out on their routine patrol.
He fears he will not get help in time. But Aedon is fast, surely he will reach another squad before he meets his own end, right? He just has to keep pushing forward, has to ignore the pain and the tears that blur his vision.
If he dies here, Captain Olsson’s sacrifice will be for nothing.
…but everything hurts. Wouldn’t it just be best to give up? His squad is dead and he is not far behind, why keep pushing forward when it’s obvious he won’t get help in time?
It’s only right that he too dies along with his comrades for he is a selfish coward, leaving them behind to save his own life instead.
“…Illu…ga…”
The voices of the Wild Hunt whisper into his ear once more.
“…please…wake up…”
Wake up? He isn’t sleeping, he is running away to save himself, or that’s what he’s been telling himself.
Then, before him stands a tall, dark figure surrounded by azure flames, the color similar to Flins’ lantern. That realization almost immediately relaxes him. He’s okay. Flins is here to save him.
“…Young Master…wake…up…”
The figure says, its voice eerily similar to Flins’ as well. Yes, it really must be him, though he still isn’t sure why he’s being told to wake up.
“Sir Flins! Help! My squad—“
Those azure flames quickly turn into a sickly purple color and the figure lunges at him. He does not have time nor energy to dodge when a sharp object is thrust into his chest, pain immediately spreading throughout his body.
He screams.
Illuga jolts awake and is still screaming with tears flowing down his cheeks. Hands pin him down and he thrashes against them, but it only makes things worse.
“No! Let me go! Stop, please stop!”
Something sharp is jabbed into his arm and Illuga cries out in pain and frustration. There are several voices talking all at once and it is dizzying trying to figure out what they are saying. All he can do is cry and try to fight against the hands that hold him down but is quickly losing against them as whatever was injected into his arm takes effect.
His limbs soon feel numb and he no longer has any control over his muscles. Whatever has been wrapped around his body is being removed and Illuga blinks past the tears and catches sight of bright red. That is blood, isn’t it? He is bleeding out once more.
A cold hand is placed upon his cheek and forces Illuga’s attention away from the bloodied gauze. He slowly turns his head and is met with concerned yellow eyes. Flins.
“It’s alright, I’m here,” Flins says with worry evident in his voice. “You’re going to be okay so just go back to sleep.”
“N-no. Don’t wanna.”
“Illuga, listen to me.” Not Young Master, but his actual name. “You reopened your wounds and they need to close them again. Just let the medicine do its job and go back to sleep. I will be right by your side the entire time, okay?”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
The cold hand upon his cheek swipes away the tears and Illuga unconsciously leans into it. Flins says something again, but it’s muted as the medicine begins to pull him under and Illuga is out once more.
Illuga is unconscious again for a whole day. Flins thought everything was going okay. The first time Illuga woke up, he seemed fine, although that was the pain medication doing its job. He never expected for a nightmare so violent to happen which caused Illuga’s wounds to reopen.
The sight terrified Flins, seeing red quickly stain the pristine white bandaging as Illuga thrashed around to get away from whatever was haunting his unconscious mind. Several people had to pin Illuga’s body down to get him to stop moving and Flins wanted nothing more than to shove them away, to get their hands off of him. But it was for his own safety and he watched as a different medication was injected into Illuga’s vein.
Aedon is also worried and he has not once left Illuga’s side, chirping sadly every so often. Flins doesn’t know how to console a bird, if he knew how he would. Instead he remains close to Illuga and watches for any subtle movement or signs that might indicate something going wrong.
Now, when Illuga shifts slightly, Flins immediately turns his attention to him and sighs in relief when his eyes open. Aedon is happy as well and he nuzzles his tiny head along the uninjured side of his neck.
Illuga lifts a shaky hand to caress the nightingale’s fluffy body and smiles slightly when Aedon trills at the touch. His gaze shifts over to Flins and the smile never faulters.
“How are you feeling?” Flins asks.
Illuga takes in a deep breath that gets cut short and he wheezes. “Careful, you have a few broken ribs. It’s best to breathe slowly,” Flins informs. A doctor has been teaching him how to care for Illuga’s injuries so he is able to help when Illuga is allowed to go home.
“Sore and tired,” Illuga responds. “How long…”
“A few days now.”
Illuga’s hand drops to his lap and he looks elsewhere. “Is Ivar alive?”
“Yes, he woke up yesterday and asked about you. He also mentioned wanting to talk to you.”
It was true, just yesterday evening, Ivar had finally woken up and learned of the results of the incident a few days prior. He retold his side of the story and it further confirmed that something strange had happened that night.
He then asked about Illuga and said he wanted to thank him for saving his life, and to make sure he doesn’t blame himself for what happened.
“Can I see him?”
“How about after you eat something and do some breathing exercises to help with your ribs,” Flins offers. “I’ve been instructed to care for you so I can help you with them.”
“Did my old man put you up to that?”
“Yes, but I would have offered to help you regardless, even if he didn’t ask me to.”
Illuga stares at the partition, not saying anything else. Flins doesn’t force him and instead mentions that he will be back and leaves to fetch something light for Illuga to eat.
When he returns, Illuga is still awake and Flins helps him sit up better and carefully rearranges the pillows behind him. He brought along a bowl of plain porridge, water, and a few slices of fruit and a few tiny berries that would be easy on his stomach.
Illuga eats slowly and Aedon steals a berry or two, chirping happily and causing Illuga to smile a little bit more. He doesn’t eat much and Flins doesn’t force him to, he’s just glad that something is filling his stomach after not eating for a few days.
Afterwards, Flins helps Illuga with his breathing exercises and has him hold a pillow to his ribs while he takes several slow, deep breaths while lightly coughing to clear any mucus that might have formed to prevent his lungs from collapsing.
Keeping his word, Flins gets Illuga to his feet and has him take his time. He wobbles and leans heavily on Flins as he’s guided over to Ivar’s cot.
Luckily, Ivar is awake and Illuga is helped to sit on the edge of the cot before Flins gives them some privacy and leaves, but stays close by on the other side of the partition along with Aedon.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Ivar starts. “I’m glad to see that you’re doing okay.”
Illuga looks down at his lap. “Don’t thank me, it was Captain Olsson who saved your life.”
“Well, yes, but without you, I’d be dead. You both deserve my thanks.”
A loose thread on his pants keeps Illuga’s fingers busy as he picks at it. “How bad is it?”
There’s silence for several moments. “They said I’ll never be able to walk again, which means I’ll have to retire. I’m not of use anymore so…”
“Just because you might not be able to walk again doesn’t mean you won’t have any use for us,” Illuga argues. “I’m sure there are plenty of ways you can help out without being on the field. I can ask the Starshyna the next time I see him.”
Ivar laughs. “Sure. Say, my younger brother Rollon has been interested in joining the Nightmare Orioles. You think you can take him in?”
“Take him in? I’m not a squad leader nor am I even capable of being one…”
“Why not? I think you’re more than capable, in fact, why not apply to take over the squad? Us Lightkeepers need more ratniki like you to be in charge.”
Illuga ponders that idea. Never once has he thought about becoming a captain nor did he think he’d ever be capable enough to be one. He’d be in charge of an entire squad and their lives would depend on him. What If he isn’t good enough? What if he messes up and loses everyone once again?
Ivar speaks again. “Just give it some thought, yeah? Just trust me when I say I think you’d do great.”
Illuga pushes the idea of becoming a captain at the back of his mind and talks to Ivar a bit longer until a doctor comes by and gently shoos Illuga out, telling him they both need to rest and that they can talk again tomorrow.
Flins never once left and doesn’t mention what he had overheard. He just helps Illuga back to his cot and Aedon happily cuddles up against him when he gets comfortable. Flins tucks the blanket around him and sits with Illuga until he falls asleep.