Valoren runs his fingertips across the silver filigree on his mask. A chip of the veneer flakes off in his hands, and he frowns, mimicking the mask’s dour expression. Now, this wouldn’t do at all, he decides. This mask had been a temporary measure — a means to quickly conceal his identity — and when he’d stolen it from the Cornelia Theater, it hadn’t meant to become a permanent part of his vigilante wardrobe. Now the thing had become the only silver thread trailing between his various killings, and he was loathe to ditch his calling card. “The Harbinger of Tragedy,” the papers had dubbed him. Or simply, “The Harbinger.”
Valoren smirks. Little did they know how close to his Stormcrow’s legacy they’d come with that particular moniker.
Shifting to bring his knee up beneath his chin, Valoren’s smirk freezes on his face. His blood runs cold in a similar fashion. That creak had not come from this spot in the roof. Yet, it had been timed perfectly as though it had caused by his own movement, and gods, it was close.
After years of training himself not to react suspiciously to being caught, Valoren doesn’t react just yet. Instead, he tilts the mask, ostensibly inspecting it for blood splatters or further wear. From this angle, he can now see the figure behind him reflected in cheap gilt.
—
The girl couldn’t have seen more than twenty summers.
The Temple Knights of Ishgard had always had a flair for the dramatic. Or zealous. Ishgardian rumors always had to be taken with a grain of salt. But watching the figure—the Harbinger was quite a bit shorter than Apollo had been anticipating, honestly—go into the house and leave it empty confirmed all of his worst suspicions. The father he could have understood. But the girl? …Apollo feels a terrible, familiar twinge in his chest. Was this some kind of sick mercy, to leave no orphan behind?
Either way, this trail of carnage ended here. He would make sure of it.
Apollo managed to trail the figure all the way back to an imposing, vaguely familiar mansion. Stormcrow Manor, he thinks. He’s heard of this family before. What’s the Harbinger paying them a visit for?
The killer surprises Apollo by not entering the house: instead, they perch themselves on the roof, like some sort of terrible spectre watching over the city. He’s done a good job of following them, because they seem at ease, taking their mask off and examining it. He nocks an arrow and silently shifts into position when he looks down and realizes the jig is up.
“Move, and I’ll end up hitting something that will kill you slowly. And painfully.”
—
“Aw, is death with dignity no fun for you?” Valoren sneers. The man behind him had a cold confidence in his voice that told Valoren he had killed before, and was unfazed by the prospect of doing it again. Ironically, this knowledge put Valoren at ease; he’d lose little sleep tonight over adding one more monster’s corpse to the pile.
“Oh, who am I kidding, it’s all about the chase for you people, isn’t it?” Valoren gripes. “You want to gloat about having cornered your prey, perhaps take a trophy for your collection? Perhaps see the fear in my eyes as the life leaves them? Bah,” he scoffs. “Bounty hunters. You’re all the same.”
—
“As much satisfaction as it would give me to watch Ishgard’s most feared serial murderer bleed out, I don’t rejoice in the killing.” His grip tightens on his bow, his stance never wavering. Just one clean shot through the heart, and the world will be a safer place, he thinks.
“Killing without dignity…That’s more your style, Harbinger,” Apollo spits, venomous. “Or I suppose sometimes you whet your appetite with family annihilations.”
—
"Family? Hardly." Valoren rolls his eyes, though he doubts the man can see the gesture. "A crazed black mage and his summoned voidsent are a far cry from the perfectly picnic-going pair you're picturing." Valoren calmly sets his mask on the roof beside him. "I'm going to stand up now, if you don't mind. I'd prefer we speak face to face."
—
That surprises Apollo enough that he doesn’t immediately react to Valoren standing up, his bow lowering a little. “If that’s your excuse, it’s a poor one,” he scoffs. “And what about your other victims? Were they secretly evil, too?” He says mockingly.
—
Valoren brushes himself off. When he looks up, he's raising an eyebrow. And then he gets a glimpse at the fellow who's been sent here to kill him. Oh, shit, he thinks. Fuck! The bounty hunter I'm going to have to slaughter is CUTE.
"Well, yes, they were," he admits. "Evil, to varying degrees of secrecy. Some of them were well-known villains whose social status allowed them to act with impunity. Others held magical or martial power enough to prevent their well-earned demise. And yes, some concealed their deeds quit thoroughly from the public eye. But I do have my sources."
He puts a hand on his hip, tilting his head in the same direction.
"Call me a monster if you wish; 'twould not be inaccurate. But let it be known that my victims are far worse monsters than I. Ones who had forgotten to fear that which goes bump in the night." Valoren's smirk would be endearing if it weren't so sinister.
—
“You’re serious,” Apollo says in disbelief. He lowers his bow to a resting position, arrow still nocked. “Do you expect me to take your word for it?” Admittedly, he hasn’t spent much time in Ishgard as of late, so he has no way of verifying those facts for himself. He gestures with his bow, ignoring the shiver that runs up his spine at the Harbinger’s smirk. He’s a cold-blooded killer, Apollo reminds himself. No matter how handsome he is. “Go on. Show me proof that she was a voidsent.”
—
Valoren squints at the man as though trying to decide whether he might taste better with mustard or hot sauce. Eventually, he gives an exasperated sigh.
"Your body would be inconvenient to get down from here with that hunky build. Oh, very well, have it your way." He folds his arms. "Your proof, my dear, benevolent hunter, is thus. One, I would have no reason to deceive somebody I intended to kill - but then again, nor would I have reason to be honest, which brings me to my next point. Two, were we to take a little field trip back to the scene of the crime, we would find the man's body eviscerated on his carpet and the voidsent nowhere to be found; furthermore, an aetheric reading would reveal the place rife with void energy. However, you may argue that she merely escaped, and that the mage caused the aetheric disruption on his own - to which I would concede the point, and present proof number three."
Valoren casually pulls up his shirt, revealing a horrible-looking gash near his ribcage. It looks like claw marks - or what started out as claw marks, but dark purple necrosis has started to eat at the edges of the wounded flesh. One would have to have an extremely strong stomach not to lose the contents of said stomach on the spot.
"I may not be in the habit of taking trophies, but our little voidal visitor saw fit to leave me with a gift regardless. A mage doesn't exactly leave injuries like this."
—
"Sizing me up? I'm flattered," Apollo responds in the driest possible tone. He's following Harbinger's line of logic just fine until he reveals the wound, and has to press a hand to his mouth to keep from gasping or worse, hurling. There's no mistaking those wounds: those are from a voidsent.
Apollo moves without thinking, and it's kind of a miracle that the Harbinger doesn't ice him on the spot for moving so quickly. He's pouring out a healing spell before he fully realizes what's happening, at which point he sighs and shakes his head. "I guess this means I believe you, then," he says flatly.
—
Valoren can't ice the man, because he's too frozen himself, caught off guard by the healing spell. Besides, Valoren can only fight in his blasphemy form, and that's not coming out unless he really wants to kill someone. This guy? His would-be hunter, his would-be next victim?
Valoren doesn't want to kill him anymore.
Warmth floods his body from the formerly numb wound. Valoren's breath catches in his throat, and he's hit with an unexpected wave of emotion. He's been tending to his own healing for decades. The last time somebody else had healed him - what he had assumed to be the last time anyone would ever heal him - he had been six years old, and his father had quietly tended to injuries left by Trixia. Telisor had gotten yelled at by his mother for that, and the meek man that he was, he never did it again.
Valoren can't bring himself to mask his emotions in time to stop them from washing over his face, clear as a cloudless night. The man is so close, and the moment so... well, he hesitates to describe this as intimate, but the word has had far more liberal uses. Hells, it was at least as intimate as any of his last dozen or so hookups. Combined, even.
From this distance, Valoren can spot a glint of golden eyes from beneath the man's hood. They're as warm as the healing spell was. A surprise, to be sure.
Now would be a good time not to be blushing, but unfortunately, the blood rushing to Valoren's face has other ideas.
—
Apollo’s brow is furrowed as he focuses on closing the wound and purging any remaining voidsent energy. It’s no walk in the park, but it’s easier when it’s not himself he’s trying to heal.
When all looks in order, he inspects the area with a strictly clinical eye, pressing his hand to it to make sure nothing’s amiss. His closeness to the Harbinger doesn’t actually hit him until after he’s sure the wound is healed, at which point his gaze shoots upward to meet the other man’s eyes. “I—sorry,” he mumbles, feeling awkward as he moves away.
Apollo clears his throat in attempt to gather his bearings. “I’m going to be confirming what you just told me,” he says gruffly. “And if you think this is a good opportunity to turn tail and run, I can assure you…” He tilts his head so the Harbinger can see the intensity of his stare. "There is nowhere you could go where I will not find you."
He turns and jumps off the roof.
—
Valoren leans forward instinctively at the man's touch, as though drawn in by gravity. When the hunter pulls away, Valoren almost stumbles forward in trailing after that brief, warm contact. He can't find the words to the answer man's apology before he's already speaking again. Is he... is he trying to threaten Valoren? That head tilt, like a puppy... oh Valoren's heart did not just miss a beat.
By the time Valoren finds his voice again, his hunter is vaulting off the roof and sailing into the dusk.
"I hope so," he says softly. Thank the gods the man wasn't a Viera, or he might have heard that.
Valoren isn't packing, necessarily, but he is getting his things in order. Just a few of his belongings. Just in case. Not that he's planning on going anywhere, or 'turning tail and running' in hopes the other predator would give chase. He would never do such a thing.
He's just.... organizing.
Right.
—
Apollo’s ears twitch under his hood at that. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little bit amused by Harbinger’s audacity. At first, his chipper post-murder mood repulsed Apollo, but if he really was just another misunderstood vigilante like him…well. He’s no stranger to an upbeat mood after a well-deserved kill.
It doesn’t take long to confirm Harbinger’s story. The place has the unmistakeable taint of voidsent all over the place, and the condition of the body…well. Unless the Harbinger was capable of transforming into some terrible beastly form, then there was little possibility that the man on the rooftop was capable of doing that to a body. Voidsent make for fickle pets…
His heart sinks a little when he returns to find the rooftop empty, but it doesn’t take long for him to realize that there’s suddenly activity inside Stormcrow Manor. Is Harbinger…robbing the place?
After a cursory inspection, Apollo can’t find anywhere that looks broken into. How did he get in? Did he steal a key? The absurd Ishgardian architecture lends well to Apollo stealthily climbing towards the window where he can see Harbinger digging around and throwing items into a pack. Confused but still cautious, Apollo opens the window and swings in, as quiet and graceful as a cat.
“Petty burglary seems below you,” Apollo speaks up after a few moments of watching Harbinger throw things together. “You aren’t even being subtle. One would have thought you wanted to get caught.”
—
Valoren jumps like a startled cat. He doesn't hiss, but he does let out an extremely undignified squeak, and whips around to see the Hunter, leaning against the wall... next to the open window. Sneaky little shit.
"Halone's tits, you bastard, don't sneak up on me like that!" he pouts. "I might have attacked you!"
Valoren folds his arms, displeased.
"And I'm hardly burgling. You're the one breaking and entering my room."
—
That was cute. Apollo banishes the thought from his mind as quickly as it appears. No cuteness. This is a murderer. For some reason, he keeps on forgetting that fact.
"You could have tried, certainly," Apollo responds, amused. "And by the way, I did no breaking. Entering, yes. But not the other part." He frowns as he processes what Valoren just said. That does explain the lack of any forced entry... "Are you saying you live in the Stormcrow Manor? How? Why?"
Valoren rolls his eyes to the heavens. Halone grant him patience.
"Because I'm a Stormcrow, perhaps?" He raises an eyebrow. "Damn, for an archer like you appear to be, I'd assume you would be quicker on the draw."
He moves, subtly obscuring his pack. Very subtly. Super unobtrusive.
"Now, have you sufficiently verified my claims, or are you here to get blood on my carpet?"
—
Apollo glares at him. "There are three Stormcrow family members. I know what the parents look like, and their daughter has been missing for some time now. You are very clearly not any of the three." He should be apprehensive about the strangeness of this lie, but Harbinger's last "lie" proved to be true, so he should at least be hearing the guy out on this one.
—
Valoren tries not too look too put-out about this fact. Of course Hunter didn't know him. Why should he? Then again, he had appeared to know plenty about the rest of his family... and his murders....
"Right, because it's not like they'd go putting the Stormcrow family disappointment in the history books," he sighs. Rather than argue with Hunter, Valoren simply walks over to the vanity, beckoning the other man over with a casual gesture. He points to a small framed painting propped beside the mirror.
"Here's an old family portrait. I am, of course, off in the dark corner, but I'm there."
—
Well, he'll be damned. Another absurd Harbinger claim that turned out to be true. Unless he's a true maniac that went the whole nine yards to paint himself into a family portrait, which seems unlikely due to several factors, he's not lying. That's Harbinger, right there in the corner of the portrait.
Apollo frowns. Family disappointment...? What could he possibly have done that could have caused this illustrious family to leave him out of absolutely everything?
Or...maybe he hadn't done anything at all. That was why. Apollo's feelings towards Harbinger instantly soften. Just a little. Within reason. He's still an unpredictable stranger, after all. A sad little sob story doesn't change that.
"Fine. So this is your home. Care to share why you're packing like a teenager after a fight with their parents?"
—
Valoren winces a little. Ah, so his Hunter's eye had caught that.
"Because I'm leaving," he says, a little sharper than intended. "I'm finally fucking leaving. I don't know where I'm going, and honestly? I don't care. Anywhere but here. This city has had enough of me, and the feeling is mutual."
He lets out a pent-up breath in a huff of a half-laugh.
"I suppose I do sound like a teenager running away, don't I? Would that I'd had the balls to leave this hellhole back then."
—
There it is again. Another pang of sympathy. Something about how damn forlorn Harbinger sounds just tugs on Apollo's heartstrings. "It's a big house to be alone in." is all he says. So he hadn't been trying to run from Apollo...or he was, and was seizing on an opportunity.
"If you are truly the kind of person you claim to be...then you should be leaving Ishgard, anyway." Apollo hesitates. Should he say this? What did it matter, anyway? Harbinger seemed determined to leave one way or another. "The inquisitors and temple knights are setting a trap for you."
—
Valoren frowns, concern writ on his face.
"Are they?" he says carefully. "How did you find out about this?" He chews on his lower lip, revealing an unusually sharp canine. He has more he wishes to ask directly, but that would raise questions he's not prepared to answer right now, and offer plenty knowledge on its own. This single inquiry will have to suffice for now. Then another question springs to his mind, and his mouth is open of its own accord.
"Would you-" He stops, cutting himself off with a bite to his lip. Stupid, stupid question! Don't ask that!
—
Ah, wonderful. Fangs. Apollo is having very normal thoughts about that. This is a very concerning turn of events.
"I don't know if you know this, but the Temple Knights are...not subtle people when they have nothing to hide. And their meeting spaces are very echoey." As in, he eavesdropped.
“Hmm?” He tilts his head at the aborted question. “Do you even have anywhere to go?” He can’t imagine sheltered Ishgardian nobles have summer homes in faraway locales. Or maybe they do?
—
Valoren drops his gaze, shaking his head. His bangs fall into his face, obscuring it.
“I was going to head to my family’s old summer cabin. It’s been abandoned since the Calamity, but I’ve visited often enough to keep it stocked, and I brought extra supplies recently in preparation for… well, for something just like this. I’m the only one who’s been there in years.” He sighs, picking at a tiny hangnail. “I doubt anyone would bother to travel there to look for me, but it wouldn’t be hard to guess where I’d gone. And the Temple Knights tend to be a bit more persistent in their searching efforts; I know my parents wouldn’t hesitate to point them in my direction.”
Silently, he considers Hunter’s eavesdropping. It gave him little clue as to whether his mentor had been revealed as a dark knight, but he hesitated to press the matter. Surely if a traitor had been exposed, Hunter would have mentioned it? Valoren just has to trust that he would’ve.
—
How convenient that he now knows Harbinger’s ultimate destination. His honesty is…well, Apollo doesn’t know what to think of it. Is he being transparent because they’re truly two of a kind? Or is he trying to establish a false rapport and lure him into a trap?
He’ll just have to find out, then.
“Go on, then. The longer you stay, the higher the chance they’ll catch on.” Apollo moves towards the window. “Safe travels, Harbinger. You’ll need it.”
Apollo swings out of the window with ease and moves towards his position. Far enough away to escape notice, but close enough to maintain a line of sight.
Let’s see if you were being truthful, Harbinger.
—
Valoren pauses a moment. When he hears no noise from the roof, he moves to the window and peeks out. Hunter is nowhere to be seen.
Valoren gives a disappointed sigh. Now he almost wishes he’d finished his question. Instead, he whispers the end of it to an audience of thin air: “…stay with me?”
The wind echoes his melancholy sigh in response. Valoren shuts the window.
Valoren doesn’t have much left to pack, and he’s out the back door within a quarter bell. He reaches the chocobo stable without incident, and soon he and his silver bird are on their way out of the city.
The trip to the northern Coerthas Highlands is an uneventful one. He checks several times to see if he’s being tailed, but to his relief and disappointment, he spots neither Temple Knight nor Hunter in his wake.
The moon has climbed high into the sky by the time he arrives at the run-down cabin, glittering off the frozen lake. Though he approaches with caution, everything is exactly how he left it — including several subtle traps he’d left to test for another’s presence. He breathes a heavy sigh as he unlocks the door.
“Welcome home, Harbinger,” he mutters despondently to himself.
—
Apollo does have to give the man credit. Harbinger came close to catching him once or twice, but he eventually makes it all the way out to Coerthas Western Highlands with him none the wiser.
To be honest, Apollo doesn’t know why he’s here, watching Harbinger return to a cold, abandoned-looking home alone. He had only intended to follow him until he left the city, but something kept him going. Just to make sure he doesn’t double back, or do anything suspicious, Apollo tries to tell himself, but he knows the truth.
He wanted to make sure he got home safe.
Gods, what is he doing?
Apollo turns to go, but his muddied thoughts distract him so much that he walks right into one of the traps Harbinger had set. One that he’d had no problem avoiding just moments before.
—
Valoren spins around at the noise, his rapier instantly drawn and pointing at— “Hunter?” he asks, bewildered. “What the hells? You followed me?!” Valoren tilts his head, letting the blade drop. “But… why?” His face falls as he considers the possible reasons. For once in his life, he’d been nothing but honest, and yet, this man still didn’t trust him. Of course he didn’t. Why should he? Valoren had even admitted he was a murderer. A monster. And who would trust that?
—
“Well, I couldn’t let you get mauled by a polar bear,” Apollo snaps, not thinking straight in a moment of flustered embarrassment. Shit, why would he say that?! He’s not Harbinger’s keeper—he’s a complete stranger, a deadly stranger. Both of them are. What could possibly have compelled him to follow Harbinger outside of the city walls?
“Nevermind. I’ll go, now that I know you—whatever. I won’t tell anyone.” Apollo turns to go, half reluctantly, half determined to run out into the Coerthas winter and never see this man again. Or freeze to death and be spared the embarrassment. Either works.
—
Valoren is reaching out before he can think twice. Or once, really. His longing fingers close on Hunter’s hood, and as the man continues to move away, his covering slides off.
“Wait,” Valoren says, his voice cracking. He lets the man go, but the damage is done; golden locks spill out from beneath the hood, gleaming like a halo in the moonlight. And Vieran ears, too. ”Stay?” He didn’t intend for the word to come out as a question; hells, he hadn’t intended for it to come out at all. But there it was, hanging in the air, waiting and wanting and pathetic.
—
Apollo freezes. Oh, he’s gone and done it now. Who is Harbinger, that he could so easily worm his way in and make Apollo vulnerable in a way nobody else has? Metaphorically and literally. Nobody, nobody should know that he’s a Viera—it would be near impossible to keep his identity secret then.
But there’s no anger, no fear. Harbinger’s disappointment earlier claws at him. Cynicism and suspicion has carried Apollo this far, it’s true, but for the first time he feels regret. It’s insane—but maybe not so insane as the situation he finds himself in now.
Instinctively, his hand moves to his ears, as if that would have been enough to conceal him again. There are so many things he wants to say, should say, but only one comes out.
“You aren’t afraid?”
—
Valoren isn’t sure what response he’d been expecting, but that’s not it. Afraid? Of Hunter?
“I am afraid,” he says, so softly that now he’s grateful those furred ears are as keen as they are. “I’m terrified, really, of being alone.”
—
Apollo has never felt like more of a coward than in this moment. If he had only said what he wanted to in that split second. So am I.
Instead, he lets out a heavy sigh and turns back around. “It’s late anyway. I’ll make my way back in the morning.” His fingers itch to pull his hood back up, but there’s no point in it. Nobody is here except the two of them, that’s for sure.
“You must have a way to heat this place up, surely. It’s cold even for you Ishgardians,” he says, strolling into the house as if he has any right to be there. If he distracts himself with busywork, maybe something that gets him away from Harbinger—just for a moment, just to collect himself again—then he’ll be fine. He can go back to who he was before this violet-eyed man strolled into his life and ripped it up into pieces.
—
Valoren can’t help the way he lights up at this response. Hunter was staying! He’s grateful that his beaming face can’t be seen as Hunter brushes past him, inspecting the cabin. Oh, right, heat.
“Yes, there’s two fires — one fireplace for heating, and a stove for cooking. There should be a stack of wood near… the…” Valoren trails off as he sees how low the pile has gotten. There’s hardly enough for a campfire. “Ah, hells, I knew I was forgetting something,” he grumbles. “I’ve got plenty of logs outside, but they’ll need to be chopped.”
He places his hands on his hips, considering all the things that need to be done sooner rather than later.
“And I’ll need to stable Mandibar, fetch fresh water from the well, light the lanterns, bring in some food stores to defrost…” He continues to rattle off tasks until he runs out of things he can think of that need doing. Then he sighs, sending a plume of breath into the frosty air. “And all that before I can sleep. Not that I don’t prefer nighttime for doing things, but I’m afraid I’m a rather unprepared host.”
—
“I’ll get the wood. You go take care of your bird.” Apollo’s overcompensating a little on the gruffness front—he’s really just trying to cover up how alarmingly attached he’s already become. Harbinger doesn’t seem to notice, though.
He’s grateful for the distraction, grateful to be away from the other man in the house. Also grateful to have something to take out his frustration on. The snow and wind have let up a little, so much that Apollo actually works up a sweat and ends up having to take off his cloak and pull his hair back.
He’s much calmer when he comes back in with the newly chopped firewood, standing there for a moment as his chest heaves trying to catch his breath. He might need a bath, but he he’ll have to heat all the water for that…
—
Valoren stops by the growing woodpile on his way back from the well, fetching wood for the fireplace. Soon there's a hearty blaze crackling cheerfully in the hearth. The cabin, small as it is, heats quickly after this.
It takes Valoren maybe half an hour to complete his tasks, and then he's got nothing to occupy himself with while Hunter chops wood. He puts a kettle on, for lack of anything better to do, and is passing by the window when he does a double-take. Was that man shirtless in this weather? Not that Valoren was complaining, mind. He'd seen a lot of bare backs in his time, but something about this particular back, bound with archer's muscles, tapestried in ink, and glistening with sweat as it is... Valoren gets the sudden urge to climb on it and sink his teeth into those powerful shoulders. No, Valoren, focus! He is a Hunter and you are a host! BEHAVE.
Right, what can he do that doesn't involve gawping out the window like a slack-jawed village idiot? Food, the man would want food. And a bath, most likely. Valoren didn't know what he would want to drink, but he could at least deal with the first two. The basement pantry avails him of supplies to prepare a simple stew, and combined with a few of the fresh ingredients he'd brought today, it's enough for a proper meal.
While the stew cooks, he busies himself with fetching water from the well for the bath, and boiling a couple pots of it. Valoren is just pouring the last heated pot into the tub when Hunter returns. Menphina help him, but the man is even more tempting up close.
"Hey," Valoren says, relieved to find his voice steady. "I do appreciate you chopping all that. I've drawn a bath for you, and the stew should be done in perhaps half a bell. If you'd like tea, I've got more varieties and add-ins than I know what to do with."
He smiles, hoping the expression doesn't look too adoring. Or hungry. Or both.
—
“You…drew a bath for me?” He can’t remember the last time someone did that for him. It’s not really computing that someone he was certain was a remorseless murderer just a few hours ago is drawing him a bath, and cooking him food, and staring at him with those gorgeous eyes…
Ugh. Thank god he was already hot from chopping firewood. Otherwise it would have been obvious that he was blushing. Focus. Harbinger’s given him absolutely no reason to distrust him so far, but that doesn’t mean Apollo should completely let his guard down. And not because that turtleneck is leaving as little to the imagination as a piece of clothing can…
“I, er…I’ll just take the bath for now. …thank you.” He tries not to be so obvious about how nervous the man makes him, and he’s not sure if he’s doing a good job or not.
The bath is…interesting. There’s a bunch of unlabeled bottles that smell delightful, but Apollo’s not sure if he can use them. Or if he would even know how. He at least manages to determine which one is a soap and which one is for his hair, which looks and feels luxuriously soft after the bath. Huh, so that’s how Harbinger gets his hair to look that beautiful.
Objectively, of course. It’s not as if Apollo finds the whole package beautiful as well.
He walks back out, toweling his hair dry. “Something smells good.”
—
“That would be you, darling!” The line is out of Valoren’s mouth before he can stop it. Oops. “I see you made use of my collection — wonderful! Spiced orange ginger suits you.” He gestures to the table, which had been set with surprisingly nice serving ware and… where in the hells did he find a sunflower?? Regardless, the bowls of stew are accompanied by a covered basket, a dish of butter, and glasses of water. Notably, alcohol is missing from the spread.
“But there’s dinner as well. I do hope it’s to your liking.”
Valoren hopes the flush of his face isn’t noticeable, or that its cause is misattributed. He still hadn’t calmed down from nearly walking in on Hunter earlier. Valoren had gone to inform him that dinner was ready, and found that not only was the door cracked open, but he also had a full view of Hunter’s back as he toweled off. What the hells was it about this man that was so damn… ugh! It was annoying was what it was.
—
Why would he say that? Why did he have to say it like that?! “I’m not picky,” Apollo says while his brain goes in a million different directions at once.
“I suppose I can add ‘excellent chef’ to your list of accomplishments. Right alongside ‘masked vigilante of dubious intention,’” he says after they both sit down to eat. The stew is perfect, especially after a long trek through the snow trying not to be spotted on the stark white landscape.
—
“Careful, Sunshine, you’re sounding remarkably like the newspapers there,” he smirks, reaching to grab some bread from the basket. “Why, anyone who read them would believe I’m some fearsome warrior and a magician besides, replete with aether and frightening abilities! I’m hardly anything of the sort.” He gestures with a chunk of bread. “My cooking, though, I shall accept the accolades of.”
He pauses for a moment as they both chew. “And what about your intentions, my Hunter? You thought to kill me. Though you lack the same masked flair that I do, are you not a vigilante like me?”
—
Apollo does crack a smile at that. “Careful now. I’m still not completely confident that you aren’t capable of any of that.”
He chews and swallows before answering. “I was intending to stop a serial killer. Not…someone like me.” He furrows his brow. “They don’t call us vigilantes, though, do they? Always trying to spin it to protect the status quo.” He looks up at Valoren. “I am sorry. I listened to what others said instead of observing for myself. I should have known better.”
—
Valoren almost chokes on a chunk of potato. Did Hunter just APOLOGIZE? To HIM?!
“You had no reason not to trust them. It’s not like I’ve been subtle about my killings, and you did observe me perform one,” he says. “And honestly, I’ve been leaning into the public image I’ve earned. Very few know the truth about the nature of my targets. Two people, actually: my mentor, and yourself.”
—
“I’ve been in your shoes before and it…didn’t end as well.” Apollo frowns a little. “Not everyone I’ve killed deserved it.”
“Your mentor? Do tell. I’d like to know more about the Stormcrows’ mysterious second child.”
—
“She’s a dark knight. Predictably, my parents tried my whole life to mold me into an adventurer, but it wasn’t until I tried her approach that I found myself capable of holding my own in combat.”
Why was he saying this? He has no reason to trust Hunter — hells, he didn’t even know the man’s name! They’d only met that day, and yet… it’s strange, but Valoren can’t help but feel as though they’d met before.
“You see, my parents are both accustomed to fighting using aether, and they successfully trained my sister to do the same; she was just as overflowing with the stuff as they are. Unfortunately, I’m rather lacking in that department, so it wasn’t until I tried the dark knight techniques that I found my true capabilities.”
—
"I can't imagine you incapable of holding your own in combat," Apollo admits. "Not many could have faced down the voidsent that gave you that wound and survived." Just remembering it makes his stomach turn a little.
"Your family has more skeletons in the closet than they let on. Speaking of which...what happened to your sister? Nobody's seen her in a while, and nobody seems keen to talk about it either..."
—
Valoren shrugs, raising his eyebrows as he chews his stew unhurriedly. He swallows.
"Well, she started a cult and tried to ascend to godhood, and so I killed her," he says matter-of-factly. "That was supposed to be the end of this vigilante business, but as you yourself witnessed, I felt compelled to don the mask again, and it's escalated since her death to the mess you see today."
—
Apollo blinks. He just came out and said it. Confessed to murdering his sister. Or, well...it sounds more like self-defense, honestly.
"So that's how you got into the whole vigilante business," he mutters. It couldn't be more different than what led Apollo down this road.
—
"More or less," Valoren says. Mostly less, but explaining the whole blasphemous start to this venture would raise questions he'd prefer to keep unanswered for the time being.
"And you? What drew you to this particular pastime?"
—
"I went after the man who killed my daughter," Apollo says, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "I couldn't exactly go back to Golmore after being exiled, so...I wander. Haven't put down roots anywhere for very long."
—
"Ah, the vengeance motive. A classic. Slippery slope, that," he nods, as if he'd just agreed that it was cold outside today. "So what brought you up north to our frozen little corner of hell? A simple whim?"
—
"Whims. Guided by rumours about you, mostly."
The rest of the dinner goes swimmingly. Harbinger's quite a good conversationalist, which makes Apollo feel awkward with his heavy accent and not-quite-perfect-yet Common. But it's so easy to talk to him, in a way he hasn't found in a stranger in so long.
When they're done eating, he stands up, holding his bowl. "Is there anything else that needs to get done before we sleep?"
—
At the mention of sleep, Valoren yawns. “Not really. If you would stoke the fire again, I’m happy to wash up.” He accepts the bowl from Hunter. Then a thought occurs to him. “Though… about sleeping.” Valoren clears his throat awkwardly. There’s no convenient way to say this, is there? “Unfortunately, my family returned most furniture after the Calamity. Which leaves us to sleep on a chair, the floor, or… the bed.” He focuses intently on washing their bowls, avoiding eye contact.
—
"..." If he had known that, then he wouldn't have stayed. And he's really not willing to head back into that cold now. The chair is a no-go. The floor would be a viable option, but even if he slept in front of the fire, the cold would make for an unpleasant bedfellow.
He sighs. "I'll take the floor, if that would make you more comfortable."
—
“It wouldn’t,” Valoren says automatically. Fucking hells below, had somebody wired his heart directly to his vocal cords, bypassing the brain entirely? Stupid, stupid man! Now cover, before you look even dumber!
“I’d be some poor host if I allowed my guest to sleep on the floor. That may have been acceptable in Golmore, but Coerthan floors are rather colder than that.” He scrubs all together too aggressively at a spot on the bowl. “Besides, the bed isn’t small. We’d each have plenty of breathing room.”
—
“You…propose we share a bed.” Apollo has to pretend the idea doesn’t terrify him. Mostly because watching Harbinger’s muscles move under that damned turtleneck of his makes him feel panicky.
I can do this. Better than the floor, he thinks, steeling himself. “As long as we keep our weapons to ourselves, I suppose we won’t have a problem.” Fuck. He should have said “knife”. Or literally anything else. He prays for the cabin floor to give way underneath him and bury him under rubble.
—
Valoren freezes mid-scrub, his heart lurching in his chest. Hunter couldn’t have known, but sharing a bed was the only reliable recourse to prevent an incident. Because if Valoren should wake from a nightmare alone… then he would become the weapon.
Dimly, he realizes Hunter probably expects a response. “R-right. Of course. I’ll take the left side and keep to it.” His knuckles are white around the scrub brush. “Perhaps we could get out some string and add a line between the sides. If I should cross that line, do feel free to stab me!” Inwardly, Valoren winces at the feeble attempt at humor.
—
“I’m not going to stab you,” Apollo says, trying not to sound too relieved that Harbinger let his little Freudian slip go by. “I doubt the string will be needed, either.”
Famous last words.
Apollo doesn’t usually wake up randomly in the middle of the night, but he does this time. He should at least be able to feel the winter’s chill even underneath the duvet, but instead he feels…warm.
Because he’s pressed up against Harbinger’s body.
And he’s got a throbbing erection.
“Fuck,” he hisses, none too quietly, jerking backwards as if he’s been burned. Please, please don’t wake up, he pleads mentally.
—
Valoren wakes up bleary-eyed in the darkness, not immediately sure of where he is. But there’s someone warm and comforting at his back, and he feels, remarkably, safe. Then the person behind him jerks, there’s a hissed profanity, and the memories of the previous day come hazily back into his mind’s view.
“Hunter?” Valoren mumbles. He starts to roll over, and as he shifts, he notices something pressed against his ass. A rather large and hard something. Valoren is barely awake, and in this dreamlike state, to say he isn’t thinking straight would be an understatement deserving of international recognition.
He’s facing Hunter now, their waists pressed close together, and he lays a hand on the man’s chest. Valoren’s lavender eyes blink lazily, dark eyelashes temporarily shielding their faint glow.
”Want me to handle that for you?”
—
“What?” Apollo stares at him in disbelief. Did he mishear the man in his post-sleep bleariness? That was not what he was expecting him to say. “I—uh, I couldn’t…” He stammers a bit before gathering his wits. “It’s fine. Just go back to sleep.” He tries not to imagine how Harbinger would “handle” his problem and fails miserably, his face instantly turning red.
—
Valoren can’t remember the last time he felt this at home with somebody, nor wanting anyone like he wants Hunter now. Valoren feels the man twitch at his offer, and he slides a leg over Hunter, bringing them closer together. Subtle, practiced movements of his hips serve as further invitation.
Valoren leans in. Hunter’s rapid breath is warm on Valoren’s lips. “You couldn’t?” he repeats, in that sultry undertone of his. “Couldn’t what, Hunter?” He all but purrs the last word, glancing between the man’s eyes and his lips.
—
Apollo lets out a soft moan at the contact, his eyes squeezing shut to avoid Harbinger’s gaze on him. “I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he whispers. This is insanity. He can’t stalk this man all the way to his home, eat his food and sleep in his bed, and then expect him to do this.
—
Valoren’s hands trail up Hunter’s neck, gently cupping his face. His response was far from a “no,” but it wasn’t exactly a “yes,” either.
“You don’t have to ask me to do anything, darling,” he says softly. “I want this. I want you.” He scans Hunter’s scrunched-up face, searching for his true emotions. The desire is plain, but there’s something holding him back. “If you’ll have me, that is.” Valoren brushes his thumb near the corner of Hunter’s lips. “May I?”
—
“You don’t know me,” Apollo whispers. “We don’t even know each other’s names.” Despite himself, he can’t help but lean into Harbinger’s touch. Fuck, does he want him.
—
“Valoren,” he says. Voicing his name seems to snap everything into focus. But with this newfound clarity, rather than think twice about what he’s doing, it only strengthens his certainty that nothing has felt more right.
“My name is Valoren.”
—
“Valoren,” Apollo repeats. It feels so right to say it, melting away all his hesitation. “Mine is Apollo.”
Is he going to regret this? Maybe. Something tells him he won’t, though, as he leans forward and presses his lips to Valoren’s.
—
Apollo. It wouldn’t have been the first time Valoren had slept with someone who didn’t know his name, but something about this man makes Valoren want to be known.
Then their lips meet, and Valoren is sure it’s the sweetest kiss he’ll ever taste. He cradles Apollo’s face, running his thumb across the freckles he knows are there. Val is gentle, almost cautious, as if Apollo were an anxious prey animal rather than his Hunter. Still, he can’t deny his own animal wants, and as they kiss, he shifts his body on top of Apollo’s. He’s straddling the man now. The layers of cloth between them are tantalizingly thin as Valoren rocks his hips, a bulge quickly growing in his own pants now. Gods, does he want Apollo.
—
It’s like a dam breaks inside him, and now he just can’t keep his hands off. “Raring to go, huh?” he teases, hands moving to Valoren’s hips and moving up his torso underneath the turtleneck. “I’ve been thinking about ripping this off you all night,” he mutters.
—
“And that would be why I wear such things, honey,” Valoren says, his bright eyes narrowing smugly in the darkness. He pauses, raising his arms to allow Apollo’s warm hands to push the shirt over his head, and then he’s back at the man’s lips with newfound enthusiasm. Valoren runs his tongue along Apollo’s lower lip, and acting on impulse, gives it a little nibble. He’s careful, knowing the damage those fangs can do, but it’s all he can do to restrain himself. When he withdraws from the kiss to speak, he’s still barely a hair’s breadth from Apollo’s mouth.
“And I think it’s adorable you’re teasing me for wanting you, when you’re the one who woke me up with your throbbing problem here.” To punctate this sentence, Valoren grinds down harder.
—
Apollo grabs Valoren’s hips in place, grinding upwards right back. “How could I not want you with those big pretty eyes of yours begging to be fucked?” He pauses to pull his own shirt off before chasing Valoren’s lips for another kiss. “Go on, bite harder, Harbinger. I can take it.”
—
If being bitten was what Apollo wanted, then who was he to deny that? Valoren was hardly going to disobey such a handsome man, especially when that man's hands were wrapped so firmly around his waist, and his broad chest was so warm beneath Valoren's body.
And so Valoren meets his lips, and sinks his teeth down into them, piercing deep. As Apollo's blood spills onto his tongue, Valoren feels electrified. He hadn't realized how much aether he'd lost today fighting that voidsent, and Apollo's blood was charged with the stuff. A shiver runs through his body as he drinks from the man's lips. He's barely aware of how he's gripping Apollo's hair, holding him in place.
—
“Ngh…” Apollo winces at the bite before the sheer sensation of it flows through him. God, he’s never been so hard in his life.
“Greedy…tsk.” Apollo’s hand finds its way around Valoren’s neck, his grip loose but secure. He gently strokes Valoren’s pretty little throat, watching its movement as he drinks. “I felt there was something odd about your aether…do we have a little aether vampire here?”
—
Valoren pulls back, his eyes widening. If only his newfound energy had increased blood flow to his brain, instead of where it actually went. Then again, Apollo seemed to be rather enjoying being used as a juice-box. When Valoren grins, his fangs are stained sanguine.
“I told you I’m a monster,” he chuckles, swallowing against Apollo’s hand. The man’s grasp is warm but firm, and Valoren knows his neck could be snapped as easily as a branch, or choked out with less force than Apollo would use to hold his bow. He is caught prey, and he must trust his Hunter not to end him. Valoren feels like a housecat laying under a bear’s paw. And he loves it.
“Scared of me yet, honey?”
—
“What was it you said on the roof? ‘Ones who had forgotten to fear that which goes bump in the night?’” Apollo gently pushes Valoren backwards by the neck until their positions are reversed, reveling in the mischief in the other man’s eyes. Brat taming it is, then.
“I think you could do with relearning a little fear yourself.” Apollo is slow, careful, doing just enough to restrict Valoren’s airway without completely cutting off his breathing. “I’d ask for a safe word, but you seem a little…occupied.” He smirks. “Two taps on my leg, yeah?” he asks as he undoes Valoren’s pants.
—
Though Valoren can still barely breathe, mustering the air to speak is another matter. Nodding is also beyond his current range of motion. So he grins like a shark and shoots Apollo a wink. Relearning fear? This was going to be FUN.
Valoren’s hands are still free, which was quite the mistake on Apollo’s part. Seems Valoren wasn’t the only one distracted. Apollo’s shorts come untied easily, and then Valoren is grabbing at his cock, nearly tangling their arms in the process.
—
"It's cute that you think you've gotten one over on me," Apollo muses, taking hold of Valoren's cock. "Go on then, little Stormcrow. Make me cum." He runs a thumb over Valoren's slit, his face betraying absolutely no reaction.
—
A little squeak escapes from Valoren as he's now the one being toyed with. Damnit, Hunter! Well, fine, if he wanted to play with lightning, then he should be prepared to get struck. Challenge accepted.
Valoren wishes he could use his mouth, but as it is, hands will have to do. Stroking Apollo's length to get a feel for him, Valoren can tell that despite the man's carefully deadpan expression, it won't take much to get him off now. So he wastes no time and goes straight for the tip, tugging none-too-gently at the sensitive spot just below the head. And he squeezes.
Valoren can't help but let his smirk return. Let's see how you handle this one, Hunter.
—
Apollo lets out a sharp breath, biting his bloodied lip in an attempt to suppress a groan. Shit, is he that easy to read? Considering this very well may be the one and only time he gets to fuck this awfully frustrating little twink, he refuses to be a one pump chump.
He presses his thumb right against Valoren’s pulse, feeling an answering twitch in his palm. Gotcha.
—
Valoren hears that quick exhale, and coupled with the way Apollo's throbbing in his grasp, his smirk breaks into a shit-eating grin. There's the thunder... let's count the seconds, shall we?
Valoren's tally gets to a grand total of 'one' before Apollo's grip shifts to pin his artery. Oh. Oh. Oh, FUCK.
This little reminder of his Hunter's power sends a quiver down Valoren's spine. He can hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears, struggling to circulate against the pressure, and pumping plenty of blood to.... oh, Hunter.
Without intending to, Valoren's grin begins to melt into a pathetic picture of wanting. If only he'd had air to beg, he really might've.
—
Valoren’s much closer than he thinks, and if this goes on for much longer, Apollo will be the first one to break. But the look in Valoren’s eyes tells him he’s got him, hook, line, and sinker.
His hand moves faster along Valoren’s cock, squeezing him like a cheeky little reminder. The one around Valoren’s neck shifts a little to let up on his windpipe, but increasing the pressure on his artery. “Say please.”
—
Valoren draws in a shaky full breath. The room begins to swim, and he can't tell if he's dizzy from lack of blood or from desperate pleasure.
Despite this, Valoren maintains his self control; though his fingers tremble, he doesn't stop his incessant tugging at Apollo's cock. He's close, he knows he's close. It's a race now, to see whether the lightning will strike before he passes out or is struck himself. And Valoren was nothing if not the eye of the storm.
"Please?" he gasps. "Please, Apollo... please cum for me?"
—
Fuck. Apollo’s eyes widen, both in surprise and outrage, as those damned eyes of his give him the most intolerable puppy eyes, and suddenly it’s out of his hands as he cums with a gasp all over Valoren’s hand and torso.
“You little demon,” he hisses, trying to catch his breath.
—
Valoren cackles, his voice rough as he's released and the room comes rushing back. So the storm is less than six miles away? How terribly unsafe! His voice breaks as he laughs himself into a brief coughing fit.
"Aw, nice try, Hunter, but you'll find I make for slippery prey." Valoren licks the cum off his fingers, wiping it up from his chest. Gloating, maybe, but he really just wants to taste Apollo.
He hopes it isn't obvious what a near-run thing that was. And that Apollo is either too spent or too forgiving to get back at Valoren. That gasp from Apollo had nearly sent him over the edge.
—
“We’ll see how cocky you are when I’m done with you,” Apollo says in a silky, dangerous tone.
Apollo doubts he’s had such a peaceful sleep in a long time. Ironically, he’s never felt so safe next to someone he should consider an enemy. Doesn’t hurt that they wore themselves out a good amount of time, either. The sun is well up in the sky when he finally does wake up, glaring at the usually-welcome sunlight that hits him in the face. He turns to see if Valoren’s awake yet.
—
Valoren's been watching Apollo for some time now, watching the sun creep across his gorgeous face. Idly, he wondered about who this man was. Free from the burdens of the waking hours, he looked remarkably young. Valoren knows that Viera live for centuries, but this man's face bears no scars, which he would doubtless have accrued if he'd lived this dangerous life for long.
His face also has 103 freckles. Valoren counted.
As Apollo wakes and tilts his head to look at him, Valoren smiles. "Morning, Sunshine," he greets. His voice is husky from the early hour and the misuse of his throat the night before.
He stayed, Valoren realizes. We both did.
—
Apollo had actually not been sure he would stay until the moment he turned to see Valoren’s face. Then it felt silly that he had considered the idea at all.
“Good morning, prettyboy,” Apollo greets him, propping himself up on a pillow. He winces at the bruise flowering on Valoren’s neck. “Stars, that looks bad. I got carried away.”
—
"Says you!" Valoren grins, brushing a strand of golden hair from Apollo's face and trailing his fingers down the man's cheek. "My bark may be sweet, but I bit your neck quite badly."
Gods, what was this feeling that was glowing in his chest? He felt like he'd swallowed the sun, and now it was shining from inside his ribcage, lighting him up with pure joy.
—
“I just feel bad for marking up this lovely neck of yours,” Apollo says. “Mine is whatever.” Valoren’s doing that thing again, where he’s looking at Apollo like he hung the moon. At first Apollo wondered if he was doing it on purpose to manipulate him, but at this point, he realizes it’s sincere.
Almost as if in a haze, he reaches forward to stroke Valoren’s cheek. “How did my favorite fugitive sleep?”
—
Valoren gently kisses Apollo’s hand. “Better than I have in… well, best not to make any depressing estimates. Suffice it to say, in a damn long time.”
He tilts his head as he registers the first part of that question. “Your favorite fugitive? How many rival suitors do I have?”
—
“Not depressing. It’s not easy to get a good night’s sleep when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder.” He tries not to shiver at the touch of Valoren’s lips on his hand.
“I don’t make a habit of becoming attached to fugitives,” he says. “You’re the only one.”
—
Valoren has to resist the urge to kick his feet like a schoolgirl at this news. It's fine. He's just another hookup. Why in the Twelve's good names did I choose the word 'suitor'?!
"Well, you'll be pleased to know that nobody else who's tried to kill me has seen another sunrise, so you've got the lead by a malm." Valoren continues peppering Apollo's knuckles with kisses. "And even if they had, 'twould hardly be a competition."
—
"There are worse ways to go than by your side, I suppose. " Apollo sits up properly and stretches, giving Valoren a little show in the process. "Do you have coffee out here in the middle of nowhere, or will I have to take a plunge into the icy water to wake myself up?"
—
"Of course I have coffee. What do you take me for, an Ishgardian?" he laughs, flopping over into Apollo's lap. "Don't let the pointy ears fool you; my Vieran mother raised me well on Golmorran coffee."
He reaches a hand up to trail across Apollo's cheekbone, then gives the back of his head a gentle tug, hoping to draw him back down for a kiss.
—
Apollo indulges Valoren, leaning in for sweet little peck. "Forgive me for making assumptions, Valoren Stormcrow," he says dryly. "Shall we?"
Apollo's a few sips in before he's giving Valoren a look over his mug. "So. What's your plan, Harbinger? Surely the temple knights will come knocking once they get off their self-righteous little thrones and find where you've gone."
—
Valoren, who was basking in the bliss of a fresh cup of hot coffee and the company of a certain golden-haired somebody, suddenly finds his idyllic bubble popped. His face flickers through all the stages of grief before settling on resignation.
“I… didn’t have a plan,” he sighs. “But! I’ve always been good at thinking on my feet. I’m sure I’ll be able to escape, and then I’ll hit the road, preferably to somewhere warmer. Then I’ll become a wanderer. Who knows, perhaps our paths will cross again someday!” He gives a smile, but there’s melancholy behind it, as deep and dark as the middle of the sea. Valoren knows he won’t survive the coming confrontation. And he has no reason to try.
—
Apollo furrows his brow, thinking. He wants to ask Valoren if he would like to travel with him…but aside from sounding abjectly pathetic, Apollo feels he’s impeded on this man’s life enough already.
“If…you’re sure,” he says slowly. He tries to be reassuring. “There’s a beautiful world out there, Valoren. You must see it.”
—
“I’m sure,” Valoren beams with half-dimmed eyes. “I mean, it can’t be all bad out there, can it? I may have shared this frozen hell with the most deserving of the damned, but surely people can’t be the same the world over.” There’s a cruel twist to his words, though he leaves the last sentence unspoken: if the world was truly beautiful, then you wouldn’t need to cull its occupants like you do. Neither of us would.
It doesn’t occur to him that if all people were truly as dark as he’s convinced they are, then he wouldn’t be here, baring his heart before the Sun.
“I’ll be fine, okay?” he says, unconvincingly. “Wherever I end up can’t be worse than here, anyway. This is what I want. It’s for the best. I— I truly believe so.” Valoren can’t bring himself to give this man an empty promise.
—
Apollo gets a terrible foreboding feeling from Valoren's word choice, but then again, he's known this guy for less than 24 hours. And if he's half as prolific as the Harbinger rumors would have him believe, he can handle himself just fine...right?
"I hope our paths do cross again," he whispers.
It's hard to leave, harder than it has been to leave any other place Apollo has stayed over the course of his long journey. It's for the best, remember? he tells himself. Valoren said as much. And you can't bring him to the places you have to go. There's something so beautiful and tragic about Valoren that makes Apollo feel protective.
Falcon's Nest is livelier than he would expect, he notes. He pulls on his hood to make sure he's covered sufficiently before approaching an Ishgardian to ask about the commotion.
"Oh, the Temple Knights just moved through here," says the elezen man. "They're headed towards the frozen lake up north. Something about capturing a fugitive."
Every word the man says after "Temple Knights" sounds like it's coming from underwater to Apollo. This soon? He thought Valoren would have at least a full day before those religious nutcases got their shit together.
He can't just leave now.
Apollo turns and immediately begins sprinting the way he came.
—
Thud thud thud.
The knock at the door rattles the entire house, and Valoren sighs. He’d known they would come, of course, but this was rather soon. Why, he hadn’t even had time to finish his afternoon tea!
“Temple knights, open up! Valoren Stormcrow, you are under arrest!”
Valoren calmly puts down his knitting and walks to answer the door. The knight who had been knocking draws back, and the squadron of helmeted men parts to reveal their commander. As the man steps forwards, Valoren feels sick to his stomach. Ser Lucius hasn’t changed a bit since the days he tormented Valoren in the name of educating him.
Valoren smiles amiably, as though these guests were merely here for a social call.
“Ah, hello, boys! Apologies, you’re a bit late for tea. I can put another kettle on if you like. Sugar? Cream?”
The knights look to each other uneasily, but Lucius simply scoffs.
“Glad to see you’ve matured so little since I gave up on you,” he sneers. “What a pathetic end you meet, holed up in this wretched house like a frightened rabbit. Thank Halone your mother saw fit to grant me the privilege of amending the mistake I made with you.”
“I’m not sure there’s enough seating for you all, but the floor is warm. Ah, I ought to heat up the muffins from this morning!” Valoren continues speaking as though he hasn’t heard Lucius’ attempt at disparagement. If he’s going to die today, then he’ll be doubly damned if he doesn’t go down without one final performance.
“Moralynn assured us you would come quietly. Was she wrong?”
“Oh, about a great many things!” Valoren grins. “But even a broken clock is right twice a day. You’ll have naught to fear from me.”
“As if I ever would,” Lucius says dismissively. He gestures for one of the knights flanking him to escort Valoren. Without resistance, the Harbinger of Tragedy steps forwards and sinks to his knees. As his wrists are bound, Lucius leans down to murmur into his ear.
“And to think, after all my training, you went running to a Dark Knight for mentorship. She’s freezing in the hells now, and soon you’ll be joining her.”
Valoren goes perfectly still at those words. Arma is dead? He’d known about his own imminent demise, but to think that his beloved teacher was dead because of him…
Valoren Stormcrow decides that he won’t be the only corpse in the snow today.
The air grows sharp as that familiar black smoke swirls around his body and mind. It was Arma who had trained him to control himself during the transformation, who had allowed him to master his emotions, who had helped him to wield his power. She’d always been so proud of his progress. But she’s gone now, and Valoren has nothing to lose should he lose himself.
That cold smile creeps across his face. He sets his intention for this metamorphosis:
- MASSACRE.
—
He's not going to make it in time.
There were just too many footprints in the snow. It gives Apollo hope that they were planning to capture Valoren instead of execute him on the spot, but he has a nauseous feeling in his gut that spurs him to keep plodding through the snow. It clings to his hood and clothes like fur trim, sticking to his eyelashes and making it hard to see.
Apollo's heart sinks when he hears the sound of fighting as he approaches. Is he too late? He skids to a stop just as he gets to the treeline, eyes widening in horror.
Some awful thing is there, cloaked in shadow, absolutely mowing through the temple knights like toy soldiers. No. Where's Valoren? Blinded by snow and panic, Apollo doesn't hesitate to barrel forward towards the living shadow.
As he gets closer, the terror only gets worse. The figure's wearing a mask, the kind that represents Comedy in theaters, the smile wide and mocking. Apollo shoots arrows in rapid succession, but none seem to deter the shadow.
It's already torn through most of the Temple Knights. The last one, an elderly Elezen with gray hair and some sort of armored crown, lies wounded in the snow as the monster approaches. All at once, like an avalanche, a terrible realization hits Apollo. If this thing is attacking the Temple Knights, and Valoren is nowhere to be seen...then Valoren must have fled. (Apollo refuses to consider the other option.)
He has to kill this thing. Apollo's not interested in saving the Temple Knight's hide, but he has to keep it from going after Valoren.
Apollo attempts to intervene for the last Temple Knight, if only for the sake of having another fighting ally to eliminate the living shadow, but he's a fraction too late, the shadow's claws carving a terrible dark arc through the air and ending the temple knight's life with finality.
He's no stranger to death, to battle. Apollo's a killer too, after all. But the deliberateness of the movement, the strength of the blow, the temple knight's blood seeping into the snow...it sends Apollo into shock. He tries to retreat, but he only ends up slipping and falling onto his back as the shadow approaches.
Apollo's hood slips as he nocks an arrow, aimed directly at the mask. If he's to die here, he'll at least leave the monster a souvenir to stall it as it goes after Valoren.
—
Valoren is cold.
That's all he knows from this dark place that he finds himself in, alone and numb from the chill.
He hasn't been here in some months - hasn't allowed himself to - but the place is familiar to him. He knows that when he wakes up, there will be more blood on his hands. A tempestuous sea of sanguine, and he himself at the eye of the storm.
And then, dimly, faintly, Valoren knows... sunlight? He feels it as much as sees it, the golden warmth creeping across his face and banishing the ice from his bones. He's not alone anymore.
A scene comes into view, partially obscured, as though observed from behind a mask: bloodied snow, dark smoke, and a man who knows he's about to die.
But it's not just any man. It's Apollo.
Valoren can feel his limbs again, though they're leaden as he tries to command them. Then he hears a crack, like breaking porcelain, and suddenly the mask is falling from his face in pieces. Black smoke still obscures his body, but it's his body again. Valoren sinks to his knees over Apollo. With frozen, trembling hands, he reaches out to cup Apollo's face.
"You came back."
—
The bowstring loosens, the entire weapon falling from Apollo's frozen fingers as the black smoke thickens, then dissipates to reveal...Valoren?
"Of-of course I did," Apollo whispers, his teeth chattering. "I couldn't just...not after I knew they were coming after you..." He sucks in an ice-cold breath, like a knife through his throat. "What was that?" he croaks, veins still thrumming with adrenaline. Shakily, he presses his hands over Valoren's on his cheeks. "What happened?"
—
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m a monster before you start to believe me?” Valoren whispers. He’s absolutely soaked with blood. It coats his hands, drips from his maw, and clings to his clothes.
“I told you that leaving would be for the best. You should’ve stayed away from me.” Tears run down his face, leaving clear trails through the blood. “More than I fear being alone, I fear hurting you.”
He pulls his hands back, leaving streaks of scarlet on Apollo’s face.
—
The truth is, he is afraid. The small, terrified animal inside him trembles and begs to run away and not look back. Those violet eyes Apollo loved so much, staring out at him from a bloodsoaked face...who could have blamed him?
Who, but himself? There's another part of him that wills his body to follow Valoren's touch, even if it stains him. He recognizes this part of him from on the rooftop of Stormcrow Manor, this tug from deep inside him.
"You could never hurt me," Apollo says. He's never said this before in his life, and yet it feels so familiar...
—
Valoren finds that Apollo's face is still in his hands, and he draws it in closer, pressing their foreheads together. He doesn't know what's possessed him, or why he actually believes Apollo when he speaks those words. All he knows is that he never wants to live in the dark again.
"I trust you." Valoren's voice is barely a whisper. His smile is not the wide grin of a predator, but an expression of genuine relief, and joy, and something deeper that he dares not grant a name to.
—
"You can't stay here," Apollo says. "They won't stop coming after you, especially now that you've..." murdered a bunch of temple knights. "They mentioned someone that knew you who's in prison...a traitor. Do you know who that is?"
—
"Arma?" Valoren gasps. "They told me she was dead..." Something in his expressions sharpens as new resolve is found. He's come to a decision. "I have to get her out. She may not be dead yet, but if I don't act, she may as well be." He rises to his feet and wipes his bloodied hands on his trousers, which does about as much good as cleaning with dirt.
"After that, I truly will leave. I don't know where I'm going, but to travel the world.... I think I'd like to do that." He leaves the last part unspoken: I think I'd like to do that, with you.
—
“Well I hope you don’t think you’re going alone,” Apollo says, standing up and trying to shake the snow off of him. It’s not very effective, but it does look endearing despite the circumstances. “Let’s go before I catch my death of cold.”
Of course, it’s not like Ishgard is much better in terms of warmth, but at least he isn’t walking on snow and ice anymore. “Do you have any idea where they’re keeping her?” He asks Valoren.
—
"If she's been outed as a traitor, then there's a certain cell block beneath the Vault that she'll be held in. Maximum security, but with one fatal flaw: that security is based on mortal guards. And its isolation will do them no favors," Valoren smiles grimly.
"I think I have it in me for one more massacre. What do you say, Hunter?" Valoren bows before Apollo, extending his hand. "May I have this dance?"
—
Apollo rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face as he takes Valoren’s hand. “It would be my pleasure, Harbinger.”
Truly, Apollo’s dick has taken him places he wouldn’t go with a sword, because fighting through the Vault is up there on the list of things he’d hoped he’d never have to do. But at the very least, he’s not doing it alone. Watching Valoren fight up close is a thing of beauty, and honestly would be doing things to him downstairs if he weren’t in constant mortal peril.
“I think that’s the last of them,” he says, checking around a corner. No sign of any more unfortunate Temple Knights. “The cell block must be around here somewhere…”
—
“Right. Should be just past these doors,” Valoren says, gesturing with his rapier. “My knowledge may be secondhand, but there’s hardly an abundance of other likely spots.” He crouches down to retrieve the set of keys from the guard’s corpse. As he tries them each on the door, he feels a chill run down his spine. Without knowing why, he can’t shake the instinct that something is about to go very, very wrong.
The fourth key turns successfully with a click, and Valoren spares one last glance to Apollo before opening the doors.
“Damn, you made good time,” Moralynn Stormcrow says casually. “I’m actually impressed.” As Valoren steps forward into the room, Moralynn puts her greatsword to Arma’s neck.
“Ah-ah-ah,” she tsks. “That’s far enough. We don’t want anyone to get hurt, now do we?” She hasn’t noticed Apollo yet.
“What do you want.” Valoren’s voice is the measured monotone of somebody about to snap.
“For you to come home, son,” Moralynn says, almost sickeningly sweet. “Since you killed your sister, you’ve been so distant. You’re my heir now, remember? You’ve come so far, and made me so proud. I’m here to bring you back to me.”
—
The revelation falls on of Apollo like a building coming down on his head. “Moralynn Stormcrow…?”
Fuck. So this is a family affair. And from Valoren’s tone, this is not a happy reunion. Apollo steps around Valoren, drawing his bow in preparation.
—
Moralynn's ink-black eyes snap instantly to Apollo, a classic Stormcrow smirk twisting her lips as she appraises him.
"Aha, so here's the secret to your surprising speed. You didn't tell me you'd brought a friend!" She tilts her head in an eerily familiar way, eyeing Apollo like she might assess a weapon she hoped to purchase. "Friend, or more? Could it be that you've finally found yourself a partner in crime? You've made a fine choice, if so. Do try not to lose this one, hmm?"
Valoren shifts his stance, subtly placing himself between Moralynn and Apollo.
"Enough, Mother." His voice is ice-cold. "I will not lose him, but you have lost me. I'm never coming home - not that those halls were ever home to me anyway."
"Hmm. And you're quite sure of this, are you?"
"I am."
"Shame." Before the word has left her lips, Moralynn's sword jerks across Arma's neck. Blood spurts from the gash, and the dark knight is not even granted the mercy of last words as she keels over. She's dead before her body hits the floor.
Valoren stares in shock as Moralynn flicks her blade, sending crimson droplets splattering against the tile. When he finally reacts, it's to take a step backwards. He has no desire to kill his mother, no hope of contending against her, and no reason left to stay.
As he backpedals a second step, Moralynn's free hand shoots out. A red aetherial chain flies from it to wrap around Valoren, binding him and drawing him inexorably towards her. If he would not return with her willingly, then she clearly meant to bring him "home" by force.
—
"No!" Apollo doubts that he stands much of a chance of besting Moralynn, but he doesn't hesitate to think before lunging at her with a very convenient sword he picked up off a Temple Knight.
It's been a while since he used a sword, but he at least has the element of surprise. The chain falters as Moralynn's concentration is interrupted, an Apollo even gets a few blows in before one slash from Moralynn sends him flying into a wall. "Fuck!"
—
“APOLLO!” Valoren cries, his voice breaking. He doesn’t even register the chains around him snapping as he dashes to Apollo, by his side in an instant. The man is hurt bad. Valoren had dealt enough grievous wounds to know when an injury was fatal, and this… this… he…
Valoren’s mind starts to fade in a way that’s familiar, yet strangely new. Instead of black smoke obscuring him, he’s dimly aware that he’s glowing with silver light.
He hears Moralynn approaching behind him, sabatons clacking against the polished floor, and knows he has to stop her. No… that’s not quite it. He has to
[SAVE APOLLO.]
Rather than a mask appearing to freeze his emotions, Valoren feels them pouring out of him in a crashing flood. They torrent from his back, and the world around him sharpens into unusually bright focus. He’s calm. Not in the way ice is calm, a smooth layer concealing dark and deadly waters. But in the way a heart is calm, when it’s safe, and happy, and home.
Valoren spreads his newfound wings; their use comes easy, as natural as he used to dream they would. In his nightmares, he often had wings like these — they carried him far, but never high enough to help him escape whatever he dreamt he was running from.
He’s done running now.
Valoren arcs his wings in a protective shield around Apollo, and reaches forwards to hover his hand over the man’s wound. Bright white healing magic shines through the blood on his hands. His fingers are steady as pushes this light from himself and into Apollo, encouraging the flesh to knit itself together. Soon, the skin stretches unbroken over the spot, leaving not so much as a scar or blemish to show for the grievous wound.
Behind him, he can hear Moralynn attacking the barrier he’s put up, her greatsword chiming against it with a ringing like a crystal church bell. Valoren spreads his wings wide to protect Apollo, and lets the shield drop.
His own blade is there to parry Moralynn as she goes careening forwards, and he knocks her greatsword aside with ease. With a confused fury, she pivots into an attack he knows is a feint, and she finds herself blocked again.
It’s almost mesmerizing to watch the deadly dance that ensues. Mother and son whirl around each other like two hurricanes colliding at sea. Against the odds, Valoren appears to be pushing his mother back, away from Apollo, step by hard-won step.
—
It's bad. It's really bad. Apollo can tell in an instant.
Definitely a concussion, if not a cracked skull entirely. Some sort of spinal injury, according to the suspicious lack of feeling in his legs. His ribs are broken in an awful way, and he doesn't even want to think about what the bone is poking into. It hurts to breathe, not that he's doing very much of it right now thanks to the massive gash in his chest.
It's not fair, he thinks. It isn't fair that he should die here, right now, having only just discovered something rare and beautiful that pulls him out of the haze he's existed in since his daughter died.
It takes him a few moments to realize that the silver glow that fills the room isn't, in fact, him returning to the Lifestream, but Valoren. Apollo's not quite sure if the wings are real or just a near death-induced hallucination, but the healing aether that bathes his body in a comforting warmth is no illusion. All the pain, numbness, and fear melts away from his body like snow thawing in the spring.
By the time Apollo returns to himself again, Valoren is already winning the fight against his mother. Even though his body is still realizing that it's no longer mortally injured, Apollo finds the strength to nock another arrow and take aim. He would have fought alongside Valoren in any scenario, but now, after he's been given a second chance at life? It's the least he could do.
—
The arrow appears almost silver as it breezes past Valoren and buried itself in Moralynn’s upper ribs, taking advantage of the split-second gap exposed by her upraised sword arm. Were it her other side, it would have struck her heart; as it is, something vital has been pierced regardless.
She stumbles to the side, crumbling to her knees as the sword falls from her grasp. Valoren wastes no time in putting his blade to her throat. When she looks up at him, he doesn’t see fear. Nor hatred, nor shame, nor despair. Valoren looks into his mother’s black eyes and for the first time in his life, he sees pride.
”Well done, Valoren,” she beams, though her breath rattles in her chest. “I knew I was right to have faith in you. To have hope.” She coughs, wincing as the motion jostles the arrow in her side. It’s likely that she’ll survive this injury.
As she watches Valoren’s face, her smile grows bittersweet. “I am not naive enough to beg your forgiveness, son, but I would have you hear this regardless: all I ever did to you was out of love. But I was so obsessed with giving you the life I had wished for, I was blind to how you were already building the life you wanted to live.” Her smile trembles, a tear spilling from her cheek. “And for that, I am sorry. And for that, I am proud of you, Valoren Stormcrow.” She bows her head before him. “I will set you free, my son. Become the man you want to be, and know that you will have my love. Always.”
Slowly, Valoren lowers the sword point. Moralynn remains kneeling, her eyes closed as though in prayer. Valoren’s wings glimmer as they fade. He doesn’t say a word as he backs away from his mother, but he does turn to Apollo, offering a warm smile. He raises an eyebrow in an unspoken question. Shall we?
—
The 180 degree turn of Moralynn’s attitude catches Apollo off guard, but there’s something like understanding in his gaze as he glances at Moralynn and gives her the tiniest of nods. One parent to another.
Apollo stares in awe at Valoren for a moment. He’s radiant, and he’s not talking about the wings, either. Shall we? Apollo knows he’s a goner when he realizes he would follow Valoren anywhere, into any fight, into whatever pit of hell he was led to. Yes.