Chapter Text
One thing he liked about hunting alone was that he had nothing to hide. No more looking around to make sure no one noticed, no one to ask such a silly questions as ‘Are you okay?’
He was many, many things in his life, but okay was probably not one of frequent ones, especially not lately. Also, most of the time, people didn’t really care for the answer.
And so now, Cor Leonis sat down on his motorcycle, head in his hands as he waited for the worst part of the migraine to hopefully stop soon, so he could once again delve into the endless night on yet another daemon hunt.
He sat there for a long while, longer than he would like, in the subtle shine of runes on the ground. He opened his eyes slowly; the runes were hardly even there anymore, whatever magic left in them failing. It was not long now and they will fail completely.
Well. He should probably stick to somehow safer options every now and then. Lestallum was so close now, he was almost back. Maybe he won’t hunt today after all.
Even though he enjoyed being alone sometimes, by now he was quite eager to meet with more people. So much time alone was getting to him. And for what? That outpost got overrun just as he said it would. It was too far away from any other, and too small with only few hunters frequenting it nowadays.
It didn’t matter. The outpost was gone, and he almost didn’t get out. Later, he was happy that he went in place of Iris for this hunt; as strong and eager as she was, it would not have helped her there. He himself got out by sheer power of luck.
He shook his head slowly, checking how much worse his migraine would get with motion. He was too tired and after that last fight, out of about every healing option he had, trying to heal where a daemon tore into his back. He was also on his last change of mostly good clothes. It was then he decided no more hunts along the way, just straight back home.
He took one last long breath. It actually felt like the more time he spent here in light of the runes, idly sitting on his bike and doing nothing, the worse his migraine got. So, the best thing he could do was simply give up, get back on the road and go. And so he did.
It took him better part of an hour to realize that something was off. Daemons, of all things, seemed off. Usually they were scattered around the road every now and then, chasing him down, but now, they seemed…well, the best way to put it was uninterested. They looked after the sound of his motorcycle, screeched at the light and that was it. He actually slowed down just to be sure, and after a moment oh, oh he was sure.
It was rather unsettling and it made him go faster than before, wind hopefully chasing daemon sounds away from his ears.
***
He got to Lestallum in under an hour and he had no idea how that happened. Perhaps he was too lost in thought, perhaps he drove more recklessly than he thought. Or perhaps he just looked at time and his surroundings wrong. He was never sure what time of day it was anymore.
In Lestallum, it was apparently almost evening.
Cor made his way to the hunters’ headquarters and told the story of another lost outpost in details he had not spoken of on the phone. Poor thing died on him a day or two ago anyway and reception was not the best. After that, Iris found him and more or less dragged him to dinner with others. It was one of these nice evenings, when everyone accidentally gathered without actually meaning to. Even Cid was there, freshly moved to Lestallum. Cindy was nowhere to be seen though, he supposedly missed her by a couple of minutes.
Laughs and Ignis’ food and chatter dulled the pain in his head for a moment, but it got even worse after a while and he mumbled an apology, told them he was tired, or at least he thought he did tell them. He wasn’t too sure. Iris looked worried, even Monica seemed to give him a look, but they let him go. Again, he wasn’t sure. Maybe they talked to him and he just left. All he knew is that he stumbled into his room as the world twisted around him and he passed out.
***
Cor woke up when someone shook him, enough to make his teeth clank. Without a thought he retaliated, pushing the person off of him, to the ground, with one hand around their throat, while other hand searched for his blade.
For a moment, he saw a head full of maroon curls and lips twisted into challenging smile, purring sweetly his name and Cor grinned as he squeezed his fingers around Ardyn’s throat–
And then he blinked and the image was gone, instead person on ground was none other than Monica, gasping for air, eyes full of fear, desperately trying to kick him off of her.
He froze and eased the grip, then immediately let go and she scrambled away from him.
“I am so sorry,” he got out, voice raw, he knew not from what, let go of the blade he managed to find a moment prior. Then he sat back and sighed, rubbing both hands on his temples. His head was killing him right now. Sleep didn’t really help then.
To her credit, it took Monica only a little while to collect herself back to her usual professional demeanor. She coughed a bit and Cor felt a pang of guilt run through him. But when she looked up there was a smile on her face.
Apparently Cor was screaming in his sleep, on the floor, where he fell last evening. All he remembered was getting to a room, not even closing the doors. He did close them, as Monica had to open them to be sure what was going on inside, but didn’t get much farther than that before collapsing.
“Are you truly alright?” she asked after a bit of talking, voice almost a whisper as she heard commotion in the corridor outside his room. Cor was thankful for that, but still a sigh escaped his lips. Cor’s definition of alright was a bit different from others. Then again, Monica knew about his migraines, long before all of this. She would not ask out of nowhere.
He must really look like shit.
“Not really,” he told, truthful. This was somehow worse than usual. The usual was just that – just pain. It never actually got to him passing out before, not just from that. And again, Monica knew this. She shot him a worried look, this one gentler than before.
“You should rest a bit in here. You have been on road for a while now. A bit of undisturbed rest, on an actual bed, not a floor” she added with humor in her voice, though barely noticeable, “will get you back on your feet. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”
Cor thought about answering for a moment, but didn’t really feel like lying. But he didn’t feel particularly willing to go back to sleep after she told him she shook him out of some nightmare either. Not that tempting.
Monica took his silence as an answer of her own and eventually left, with Cor laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling, wasting time.
After a good while, during which Monica came back once more, very quietly only making sure he was alright this time, Cor sat up, looking down at his hands. Well, more at one hand in particular, the one that he strangled Monica with. He was surprised she didn’t expect any sort of explanation on that, on him grinning like a madman at her while doing so at least. He had no answer ready for that.
Maybe she just thought he was still asleep. Actually, Cor didn’t want to know what she thought of him after that. He would have much more preferred not being fooled with by his still- sleeping brain, to make apparitions of Ardyn out of people that clearly were not him. Still, Cor supposed he should be thankful that the illusion only lasted for a second and he did not attempt to kiss Monica while strangling her. That was…well. Reserved only for a certain King.
His lips twisted into a smile at that. Maybe he should go back to sleep for a little while after all.
***
Cor stayed in Lestallum only for a day, resupplied, and got back to the road, on yet another one of almost endless list of daemon hunts that flooded hunter’s headquarters each day.
This time though he met with more hunters, in hopes to take down bunch of daemons that had been drawing closer and closer to another outpost. It was always the same. No more survivors to save, just to keep what they had left and wait for Noc –
“Look out!”
Cor almost got smashed to the ground by giant flaming sword. He managed to roll out of its way at the last moment. Two other hunters took the distraction Cor gave them and dove in on the daemon, quickly finishing it off.
The daemon dissolved into black mist and disappeared into the night a few moments later and one of the hunters went to Cor, reaching their hand to him to drag him back to his feet. He took it, got back up and dusted off his jacked, while trying to figure out what went wrong. He could swear there was no giant when he turned around just a moment before.
***
Cor was losing time.
It was more and more obvious every time it happened, which was, by now, a lot. He left hunters he fought with alone after almost getting into a meaningless fight with one of them, just to realize now what was going on. This was certainly new. And quite worrying. He didn’t know how to fight against his head, which had been tormented by his migraine without stop for several days now. He even considered using a small portion of his healing potion, but then scrapped the idea. It would relieve the pain, yes, it always did, but only for a few precious moments not really worth the wasted potion. Things could still be worse.
Soon he realized that, just like about every time before, thinking anything could be worse is the worst thing to do— just as bad as thinking things can’t get any worse. Particularly as he now stopped dead on the road and looked deflated at rather large number of daemons before him.
This would not do. If he attempted to go through, he would more or less be a dead man, Cor the Immortal or not. That was just too many.
“Thinking so little of yourself now, Marshal?” a familiar voice whispered into his ear and he jerked to the side, head snapping after the sound so fast he winced in pain afterwards. But there was no one there, anywhere at all as he looked around himself.
“Ardyn?” he tried, but got no answer. This was…not right. Ardyn messed with him differently.
His head must be playing tricks on him again, and picked just the worst time, and the worst person to imitate for it. One that was dangerous both when he was alone, in the open, surrounded by daemons, and when he was around other people who we’re not supposed to know about any of his…involvements with his King.
So, Cor turned his bike around, and drove back, only later realizing that daemons on the road did not attempt to approach him again.
And at last, that gave him a chilling idea.
***
He managed to find an outpost that both of the hunters from previous fight also choose to use, and several more were just readying themselves to head off. Cor paid them no mind other than simple bow of his head as he passed them. Some of them seemed to know exactly who he was and bowed back respectfully, others eyed him warily. It didn’t matter right now. Cor just needed to get into the room he just bought for the night.
As he did, as the door only just shut itself, he practically tore his jacket away, and his shirts, his breath caught as he turned in front of a mirror and looked at his own back. The toned skin and muscle there was changed to dark gray and black, hard and hot to the touch, and he almost didn’t feel it when he dug his own fingers into it while an utter dismay colored his expression. It was all coming from big scratch across his back that Cor healed with all his potions after the last outpost fell and he was left to spend a night in light of the runes. That was for sure the Starscourge.
***
Cor looked absently at his breakfast. Didn’t really feel like eating anything ever again, let alone whatever the thing before him actually was. He was in his room still, which he didn’t leave at all, despite not sleeping a second, just. Thinking. He wondered why they even brought him breakfast he did not ask for.
He should definitely not let everyone know. Someone, oh yes someone should, but…Iris. Iris should know. Or Monica. Or Gladiolus or Prompto. Maybe even Ignis. One of them would do what must be done, should the need arise.
Maybe he could just go and die at the hands of daemons, hopefully taking a large number of them with him. But people should not know that Cor, Cor the Immortal, out of all people, is going to turn into a daemon. Morale was still a thing after all.
Or perhaps, he should tell Ardyn, drive to Insomnia while he still can. He had not seen him in such a long time. And this illness was spreading quickly after all. If he could choose, he would definitely like to see him last, just –
“Just before you’ll die? Think again, dear Marshal.”
Cor, just like before, spun around, and didn’t really expect to see anything, and yet there he was, sitting on the table on the other side of the tiny room.
Cor opened his mouth and then closed it, a few times actually, before he got one strangled “Ardyn,” out.
The man however looked angry at the sound of his own name and then smiled in a way Cor had never seen before, and it was dangerous and he wanted to back away before he thought better of it. And yet, just as before, as if he could read his mind, Ardyn acted upon it, bouncing of the table and all but tackling Cor against the wall.
“And here I thought just a moment before, you wanted to,” there was a poison in his voice Cor did not know, and anger and something else he could not quite place, before Ardyn kissed him and Cor broke and all but whimpered and reached to tangle a hand in his hair and drag him closer despite the warnings and –
It felt wrong and it left sour taste in his mouth. Just with that thought, the thing before him smiled into the kiss, shifted and disappeared, not into glass shards and magical light, but into a puff of black mist and sparkles like a dying daemon. Laughter, in Ardyn’s voice, but so much not like Ardyn, sounded in his ears, before Cor felt a sharp spike of pain in his chest. He doubled over then, coughing and wheezing and world around him spun wildly as he fell to his knees.
He was coughing up blood that looked almost black at this point, and while this little charade played out, the dark mark on his skin expanded.
The thing, the apparition of sorts, was above him again in just a moment, smiling as it reached down and lifted up his chin, looking down on kneeling Marshal with fondness that was nowhere near the real thing, but still made Cor’s breath catch when he actually managed to look up.
***
The apparition that took Ardyn’s shape and voice and – and even smelled like him, oh gods – was going to drive him mad. It passed through everything other than Cor himself, no one had seen it and it would not shut up for a second as Cor, wrapped in literally every last piece of cloth he brought with him (and one scarf he held dear but didn’t want to actually wear anywhere visible until now) left the outpost behind him.
Cor could hear the thing’s voice in his head and roar of his motorcycle was useless against it. And then finally when it did shut up, he heard the whispers all around him instead, and as he rode on and on, he saw once more daemons simply looking after him, not even trying to give a chase.
On a whim, he stopped. Stopped and watched as daemons passed him with glances, without any usual animosity. It left him wondering why the giant earlier even bothered to attack him, while pit of his stomach twisted.
Oh, he was afraid. And as if called, the apparition returned, wrapping it’s hands gently around his shoulders and neck, lowering a head of maroon curls onto his shoulder, like so many times before the real Ardyn had. He liked the gesture then. Not now, not from this thing.
“You will do fine,” it said. He wanted to strangle it. Not in the good way. But he did nothing, only chanted in his mind that it, in fact, was not there, only in his head.
He was a fool. Oh, there is something off with the daemons! What was he even thinking back then? His migraines have fooled him long enough and he did not realize that there was something really off with himself.
He returned to the ride, but didn’t go particularly fast.
“Where do you think you’ll go?” the thing asked again, present only in his head now. This time it didn’t even bother to sound like Ardyn, it was just…wait, no. This voice was definitely one he knew. Clarus. And then more joined.
“You have done so much good, and yet you chose to cherish him.”
“Are you going to run again, Immortal?”
“Who will you betray now?”
“Can you imagine the look on faces of your friends when they find out?”
“Oh, what friends. You have always been alone. You never mattered, not really. You thought you did.”
“Poor thing.”
“Marshal.”
Cor sped up. Too many voices flew around his head. One of them was Regis and it made his stomach twist more than before and he saw him, by the side of a road, standing, judging as he passed him by. One was a young glaive. Another was Noctis, so, so sad. Then some more.
None of them were there, Cor knew, and yet…more and more added to the last, until it was a cacophony of wailing voices and Cor screamed at them to stop.
“Then stop, why don’t you?” purred Ardyn’s voice next to him and he did not look this time. He also didn’t want to brake at all, and yet his body moved on its own for a moment, and he didn’t even remember when it actually happening, only when he was flying through the air off of his bike and straight for the road.
***
“Yeah, he didn’t look all that well,” Prompto said in thought.
“Maybe it’s his age finally getting to him, you know.”
“He is not that old, come on.”
“Well, he won’t get any younger now, will he.”
“Not you too!”
“Could you please stop bad mouthing him while I’m trying to reach him? Thanks.”
Prompto, Gladio, Ignis and Iris stood right below him, oblivious. They had been talking about dear Cor for a while and he was only somewhat listening, until right now. He went here to look for Cor, but as far as he could tell, the man was not here and people knew not where he went.
Still, Ardyn was curious and considerably bored, and listened on, perched on the roof of the building, unseen unless anyone looked up. No one looked up at the hollow sky anymore. They would not see him.
He idly tried to straighten his scarves but gave up when the conversation below him started anew, as Iris finally by sheer force of will got someone on the other end to pick up phone that have been left behind. Which was worrying somehow. Cor hardly did such things.
Apparently the man all but ran out of the outpost where he forgot the phone, gave no information as to where he was going, and they owner had not cared to look which way he went.
Iris thanked them politely and almost crushed the screen, concern rather clear in her voice while she described the situation to others.
Ardyn, on the other hand, stood up and straightened himself a bit, or, at least what was the possibility for him. This was cheating and no fun, but he did get more worried now and actually didn’t care about his own rules for the moment.
The world around him twisted with magic as he warped so far, far away, to the blade that was left full of his magic in place of Cor’s old sword.
He stumbled a little before he got his balance back, looked around himself and found the owner of the blade sprawled on the ground a few meters away from the sword, and even farther from his motorcycle, with lights still on but laying more or less in a ditch, scratched and silent.
Without a second thought he warped the rest of the way to Cor, sinking to the ground next to him, checking his pulse with hands that were shaking and –
Ardyn stopped when his eyes fell onto Cor’s neck, on mark there, scarf being rather useless to hide it anymore. It was slowly spreading, hot to the touch and full of darkness and regret and whispers ringing in his ears, mark and scourge behind it that was all but killing his Marshal before his very eyes.
He found one of Cor’s potions and used it, healing the worst of his injuries, but it, of course, did nothing for the Starscourge. At least he was not dying from both.
“Cor,” he said, his fingers gently stroking Cor’s cheek. “Cor.”
And like a magic word, it worked. The man opened those beautiful brilliant eyes, looked at him and his face twisted in utter disappointment.
“Not again. Leave me be.”
Ardyn certainly was not expecting that. “What?” he managed, before slapping him gently as Cor began to doze off again. “Cor, stay with me.”
At that, Cor opened his eyes and looked at Ardyn again. His whole body ached terribly but…well at least he still felt everything.
“You still don’t have enough? I have not much more to give. But I will not turn into one of you,” he said to what he was sure was yet another apparition and called upon his sword. It answered, warping to his open palm with sparks of red magic, fingers closing around the hilt slowly but firm. “Even if –“
“Cor.” There was a hand on his sword and he could not move it any further. It did not pass through the sword like last time he tried to make the apparition go away. It took him a while, but finally, he looked up Ardyn’s face and out of all things, saw understanding in there.
“Daemons have been having way too much fun with your head,” he pointed out, sighing. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
For a while it looked like Cor would not be able to talk at all. Only for a while though.
“How would I? You might consider getting working phone. I was on my way to Insomnia,” Cor said, and tried to get up. Everything hurt. That would heal in time, or just as soon as he could get a hold of one of his potions. Ardyn, however, didn’t let him get up, one hand laid on Cor’s chest, and Cor obediently sunk back to the tarmac without second thought.
“You lost your phone.”
“Well, then I would have used it any other time in last few months I wanted to see you.” There was only a tiny accusation in his voice, but it was there.
That seemed to make Ardyn smile, if for a moment, before he set his eyes back onto the mark. He knew this was bad. He could feel it, pulsating beneath layers of cloth on a large part of Cor’s body. Oddly enough, there was no ooze. But still he could tell. Cor would have not made it to Insomnia.
He sat there for a while, looking at Cor without really looking at Cor, before finally his eyes shifted back to Cor’s— and Cor knew.
“No.”
“Why did you try to get to Insomnia then?”
“Not for you to heal me! Just,” he hesitated for a moment. To see you one last time, he wanted to say, but Ardyn ignored him, took Cor’s head in his hands and hunched down, closer to Cor, almost if to kiss him but their lips met just briefly, before Ardyn put their foreheads together and closed his eyes. Cor realized what was about to happen – oh, he had seen this happen before, alas never with Ardyn – and tried to push him away, but all his strength have left him.
“Ardyn don’t,” he pleaded. “You can’t do this anymore. You told me.”
Ardyn, in fact, did tell him. He told him an awful lot. Not nearly enough, but still. He wondered what would happen to him if he took this daemon from Cor. Alright, that was not true. There was no if, only when. Because his dear Marshal will not die while he is still alive. Certainly not when he can help it. They made a deal after all.
With that thought, with Cor still trying to push him away, blinding warm light enveloped them both and for a moment, endless night around them dissolved.