Chapter Text
Adrenaline coursed through throbbing muscles as clammy air pricked freshly bared skin, remnants of his precious armour strewn haphazardly about the gorge in which they'd fought. Harsh gasps punctuated the air. Unforgiving spines rested at the pit of his throat, daring him to swallow and draw blood. Distrustful eyes never once left those of his opponent as he sought to discern his intent. To finally meet his match on the battlefield, when so much was at stake... It was inconceivable.
Cold steel trailed a line of rippling nerves straight up the column of his throat, the flat of it lifting his chin. Hyunckel's mouth went dry.
“You have done well to make it this far,” that smooth, almost affectionate voice assured, “but all things must one day reach their end. I am the victor of our little contest.”
Despite himself, Hyunckel swallowed, the speartip a hair's breadth from piercing his skin. “And what would you claim as your spoils?”
Anticipation smothered the heavy silence as curious brown eyes glided from his own to appraise the situation, no doubt pondering what it was he truly fancied. Sweat beaded down his spine when they dragged down his pale torso to the state of skin-tight breeches plastered to shapely legs, and his muddled mind finally registered the gravity of his words, a prize he had never meant to offer. Ancient Darkling traditions dictated that the victor could demand servitude of any bested foes in the interests of minimising casualties in times of strife, a decree he had taken at face value for as long as he could remember. But his body reacted instinctively now towards an unsung possibility, his muscles tense, his heart hammering against his ribs.
If he demanded he submit to him in body rather than mind, he hadn't the strength to resist.
But Larhart met his eyes again with those even, thoughtful hues, lilac lips drawn down above the gentle curl of his fingers. The silence dragged on, measured by every painful thud of his heart. More than the humiliation of his crushing defeat, all that he was yet again not quite enough, the waiting was agony. There was no way out of this; not without casting aside every scrap of life he'd struggled to make for himself, clinging to the vain hope that he might one day surpass his fathers, but he just couldn't do that. He had failed them enough for one lifetime.
Words chosen with deliberate care finally tumbled from that wicked tongue.
“I would ask nothing of you at this time.” His chin straightened when his hand inevitably fell, every bit the warrior he prided himself on being. “Master Baran has greater need of me. If upon my return I find you still draw breath, I will decide what to do with you then.”
Even the simple shift of jagged barbs away from his delicate flesh seemed almost too elaborate. Hyunckel did not lift his head; would not, even if he were able to move.
He had been granted a warrior's mercy. A reprieve, to ready his mind and gather his resolve. He hadn't even the strength to clench his teeth as haunting browns lingered in his mind long after the dust had settled in his wake. For now, he lived, no matter the consequences. That would have to be enough.
Would Larhart demand his body? There had been a spark of something there his own reacted to, hidden in his gaze. Although admittedly he hardly knew him, Hyunckel didn't find him the type.
...If he did ask that of him... would he be a gentle lover? Larhart held himself with such high regard both on the battlefield and off. His spear handling was as elegant as it was contained, the perfect display of his mastery and flawless technique. He knew exactly where to strike, how and when, with such ruthless efficiency and a level of control beyond reproach. Surely that assurance would apply to other areas as well?
...He shouldn't think about that now. Dai... he had to remember Dai. If Baran truly was his father, or even perceived himself thus, Dai at least would be safe. That was the most important of all. So long as Dai lived, even if he was miserable, even if he didn't know who he really was or what purpose his crucial life served, Hyunckel would watch over him and guide him back into who he was always meant to be. Whether he was taken as some kind of prize, locked in a dungeon, and beaten by the likes of Hadlar for his treachery, so long as Dai lived well, he would endure it.
The gorge was far too quiet, a battlefield of fallen warriors that not even a breeze disturbed. If fortune truly favoured brutal enemies on this day, exhausted as he had been, he needed to count Popp among their number. More than just the possibility, whenever he cast his mind to their mage his foreboding only intensified, darker than the pits of the Underground Palace and the resentment that once consumed him.
Hyunckel was so proud of him. To fight so ferociously against insurmountable odds, clever tricks executed with flawless timing to thin out their numbers even at great risk to his life, especially for one of his disposition, took great courage. If Popp had succumbed to his wounds because Hyunckel admitted defeat... that was yet another burden he must shoulder for which he could never atone.
There was no way to know how long he lay there, his heart aching, eyes and body heavy, but he missed the signs of Larhart's inevitable return until he actually spoke.
“Here you remain.” From the lilt of his tone, he must have genuinely believed Hyunckel would run.
“Here I remain.”
“Why?” Larhart frowned. “You should have escaped when the chance arose. I know you can move again.”
Hyunckel couldn't just tell him his plans. He needed to say something, however. A thought struck him, and he half-smirked up at him. “I had thought you would be delighted to see me. What kind of man would I be to steal your rightful claim from you? To flee at first opportunity and fret over your ever unknown whereabouts, wondering how long it would be until our paths again crossed and you cut me down for good?”
Larhart's lips twitched long before he brought form to words.
Hyunckel could have laughed.
“And...” Narrowed eyes regarded him while that contemplative hand curled again about his chin. “You are certain you are prepared for any outcome?”
Whatever witty jab he was about to utter died upon his lips. Beyond Larhart's leg his friend finally came into view, tiny hand dwarfed by that of his supposed father, excitedly babbling away with the biggest grin he had ever seen on joyful cheeks. Hyunckel's heart shattered.
...It was no wonder Popp had been in such distress recounting that harrowing tale, when he was still alive.
His heart clamped down on the worry to make way for resolve – for the strength needed to see this reprehensible path he had chosen through to the end. No matter what horrors lay in store for him, he had to protect Dai. ...No one else could perform that duty, anymore...
“Dai,” he greeted warmly when at last he drew near, ensured his own smile was friendly and sincere. “You look well.”
Dai's head tilted to the side in a gesture that would have been adorable under any other circumstance. “Who are you, mister?”
Hyunckel tried to ignore the agony carving his chest. “I am Hyunckel. A friend.”
“Friend...”
Although he ignored the narrowing of Baran's eyes, he decided against offering his friend a hand. “You'll get to know me soon enough. I'll be around, after all.”
Larhart's brows subtly lifted, although he kept his stern mouth shut.
Baran and his servant exchanged a dour expression, their silent conversation ended with a simple nod from Larhart's side. One side of Baran's mouth pressed tight – a frown, no doubt – but he dropped the issue.
“Very well.” Violent as the stormy sea brewing in dark eyes, that wicked rumble thundered across the terrain about them. “On your feet.”
It was a struggle, his body still on the verge of giving out, but with some staggering and swaying he managed to obey the command. Baran's dismissive nod before he strode effortlessly past him with Dai in tow preceded a toned arm about his back. A brief glance up into curious browns left him feeling... oddly relieved.
“I must admit,” quiet words tickled atop his ear, “I did not believe you would remain in the face of an unknown fate.”
With what little strength he had left, Hyunckel shook his head. “Dai's enduring life is all I care about now. It matters not what befalls me.”
A pensive hum resounded against him, but Larhart drew his conquest's limp arm about his shoulders nevertheless. There was silence as they staggered into step, slowed more for his benefit than Larhart's own before, like clouds floating in the sky, those gentle words finally parted the stifling air.
“In that case, I trust we can rely on your compliance?”
He nodded, and forced out another step. There was nothing more he could do.
Larhart let him pause when they reached Popp's prone and battered form. His gleaming golden cape did well to mask his failings, and with that gentle, satisfied smile, he could simply be sleeping. But no zephyrs blew stray hairs about his face, no tremors from his own crumpled body. Popp lay perfectly still, devoid of even the subtlest rise and fall of his chest. His worst fears had come to pass.
Hyunckel engraved this memory into his heart even as tears burned guilty eyes. He owed him this much, at least.