Discount Word Emporium

Further to yesterday's resolution to post my half-finished fics so that they don't keep sitting there hanging over my head…. here's one that's almost as old as the KH AU.

Its working title was "the Vesperia Superman AU", and it's pretty substantially complete in terms of plot, I just couldn't seem to get the rest of the words filled in for the life of me. Kept getting hung up on things like travel timing - I had a set timeframe in which things needed to happen, but I just couldn't settle on what was believable for getting from one place to another vs how many things needed to happen in that time. Also, I think I started writing this when I was in the early stages of figuring out my own asexuality, so there's shades of that in there but it sort of feels half-formed and awkward to me now.

Anyway. With that shining endorsement….

Fandom: Tales of Vesperia
Rating: R
Relationship: Yuri/Flynn
Summary: Flynn has spent most of his life under the Oath of the Imperial Knights, being stronger, faster, and more resilient than most of humanity. When the Oath is broken, he is forced to learn how to be merely human once again.


"Lieutenant, lead your unit to the gates. We're retreating."

"Captain? What--"

"No time for questions, kid, just get out of here. Run."

Flynn woke choking down a scream.

He hurt. Which was unsettling enough in itself-- Knights, as a rule, didn't feel pain-- but even so, he couldn't remember ever having hurt so much before, from scalp to toes, muscles cramping and skin raw and blood drumming agony behind his eyes. His body instinctively tried to curl up against the feeling, only to seize up in a trembling knot when the motion somehow made it worse.

He lay panting while a creeping dark collected in the corners of his eyes and the world swayed and dipped beneath him. He clung to consciousness and tried to force himself calm, tried to let his knotted muscles go loose. And slowly, so very slowly, the pain started to ebb. He might have wept from the relief of it if he weren't afraid any movement would set it all off again.

In the light-headed clarity that came in the wake of the pain, Flynn was finally able to wonder just what the hell was going on.

He shouldn't have been feeling this way. His Oath did a lot of things, from boosting his sword-arm to making sure he'd never be hungry enough to resort to his own cooking ever again. The effects were slightly different for every Knight, of course, but one effect they all shared was a certain indifference towards pain-- a trait that would be invaluable on a battlefield, allowing them to keep moving through injuries that would have slowed a lesser soldier. Not that there had been any opportunity to truly test that in Flynn's lifetime, not-- not until--

Flynn's breath caught in his throat as he started to remember.

The Tower. He had vague memories of a bright light and the Tower shattering. Blood on his sword. Red uniforms among blue. A sharp wrench in his head, his gut, followed by-- nothing. It was all a jumble to start, tangled up by confusion and urgency, but as he picked at the memories they began to sort themselves out.

Bracing himself with a slow breath, Flynn felt for that intangible part of himself where he had always fancied he felt his Oath, a warm center of calm and strength that connected him to his Brethren in the Order.

He found nothing.

"Hey. You're awake?"

The unexpected voice made Flynn startle up and around to face the intruder-- or try to. The sudden movement undid him again and left him shaking, eyes squeezed shut against helpless tears. He distantly heard someone curse quietly, and then there were hands on his arms, easing him around until he was lying straight again. If the person spoke again, it was drowned out by the thunder of Flynn's own heartbeat.

He pried his eyes open at last, fighting through the gritty pull of his eyelids. He blinked against the dim light until the face above him came into focus, and then he blinked again. "Yuri?" he croaked.

"Yeah." Yuri tugged the blankets up, crouching close; the familiar shape of Repede was lying just beyond him.

"What," Flynn tried, then coughed at the dry roughness in his throat. He was a little embarrassed to hear himself whimper as another wave of pain started through him.

"Easy," Yuri murmured. "Here." From somewhere he produced a cup, which he held to Flynn's lips. Flynn gratefully sipped at it and coughed again as the liquid hit his dry throat. There was a fresh, green taste to it that made Flynn wonder what was in it besides water, but after that first taste he was too busy sucking it back to honestly care.

"You're in a Guild camp," Yuri explained without prompting, once Flynn was done. "The doctor's been to see you already. You probably won't believe me, but you're not too badly hurt. You're pretty much bruised all over; I think part of a wall collapsed on you. And you've got a few cuts that I know you didn't even notice when you got them." Yuri shook his head with a put-upon sigh. "Typical Knight."

Flynn tried to answer-- to protest, maybe, because he certainly felt more than just bruised-- but he couldn't quite get his lips to work. And besides, Yuri wasn't waiting for an answer. "You'll get used to it. I have it on good authority that we mere humans get by, so I'm sure you will too once you've had a chance to acclimatize."

Yuri patted the blanket down one last time and then stood, dusting his hands on his legs. "Get some rest, okay? We'll talk more later, when you're feeling up to it."

Repede padded over and settled himself next to Flynn, stretched out and watchful. Flynn tried again to speak, but he was fighting to keep his eyes open all of a sudden, lulled by a heavy, numb feeling that was creeping in to take the place of the pain. He wondered again, for a split second, what had been in that cup. Then, lulled by Repede's warmth along his side, he fell asleep.

When he woke again, the pain had thankfully eased-- not entirely, not by a long shot, but enough that he could move without paralyzing himself. He still felt heavy, slow and weak and frighteningly vulnerable, and every move pulled against tight, sore muscles. But his thoughts were clear, at least, and he could focus for long enough to examine his surroundings.

He was in a small tent, lying on a simple pallet on the ground and heaped over with plain but good-quality blankets. Other than that, the tent was mostly empty but for a couple of sacks slung into a corner. Those few things alone would have told him Guild, even if Yuri hadn't mentioned it first; the Union insignias were subtle, marked in the corners of the canvas and onto little tags on the bag ties, but Flynn had learned how to look for those sorts of things.

Flynn strained his ears to hear the world outside the tent. He managed to pick out the creak of wheel bearings, the flap of canvas, the murmur of voices. The open sound of wind, lacking the stoney echoes of a city, which meant they had left Zaphias behind-- if Zaphias was even still standing.

Flynn took a deep breath and quite deliberately set all of those sorts of thoughts aside for later, focusing instead on more immediate matters. Like the need to reach the nearest privy.

Yuri must have been listening for the sounds of movement, or else he just had very good timing, because he ducked inside shortly after Flynn began to push himself upright, darting in just as Flynn's arms would have given out and dumped him on his back again. He didn't say a word as he helped Flynn to a very shaky standing position. He was equally wordless in the face of Flynn's embarrassment when he had to help Flynn out to the nearest patch of shrubs to relieve himself.

He was leaning most of his weight on Yuri and concentrating hard on each footstep when they made their way back into the camp proper. So he didn't see all of the looks directed his way, even though he knew they must have been there. He was still wearing the remains of his uniform, after all, while surrounded by members of the Guild, and the Union and the Empire— well, they didn't always see eye to eye. They had been in a state of agree-to-disagree for as long as Flynn could remember, though in earlier years he was told that relations had descended to outright combat more than once.

The Guild was a mercenary-ish group, usually disdainful of the Knights and their perceived inhumanity even though they all usually worked towards the same goals in the end. It had always kind of hurt that Yuri had gone to the Guild instead of the Citadel. And they'd thrown insults at each other when they parted ways, Flynn for the Citadel and Yuri for the Guild hall on the lower level. They had mostly buried that argument years before, and Flynn had even made friends, or nearly so, with some of Yuri's peers, but he still felt conspicuous whenever he had to enter a Guildhouse, like there were a few people, anyway, who were still inclined to see his uniform as a target painted on his back.

Everyone seemed far too busy to indulge the rivalry, though. The camp was obviously in the process of breaking up, tents coming down and packs being loaded. Even as Flynn was all but falling to a seat next to the cookfire, he saw people heading out with packs on their backs. The fire that Flynn was sitting beside was the only one still lit, though a curl of escaped smoke told of others extinguished not long before.

"We'll be heading out soon, too," Yuri said as he sat. "As soon as you can stand to go bouncing around in a cart. Too dangerous to stay in one place for long so close to the Citadel, after what happened."

Flynn just nodded, huddling into himself as near the fire as he could manage; shivering made his bones ache, but he couldn't seem to warm up enough to stop out here in the open air.

Yuri, of course, noticed. "Cold?"

"Yeah," Flynn muttered.

Yuri blinked at him just once-- because he was in his shirtsleeves and perfectly comfortable like that; it was a late spring afternoon and probably quite pleasant, but Flynn just couldn't get warm. After that brief reaction, though, Yuri just got up and moved back to the tent, returning a few seconds later bearing a blanket, which he draped over Flynn's shoulders. Flynn was mostly too grateful to be embarrassed.

"So," Yuri said, deceptively casual. "What did happen?"

Flynn looked up sharply. "You don't know?"

"We arrived after it was already over, mostly," another voice said. Flynn turned to see two more familiar faces heading their way. Judith was just as deceptively serene as always, with that little smile and her spear ever-present in her hand. Karol was bounding along at her side with a little less enthusiasm than usual; that was Flynn's only indication that this wasn't just another chance encounter with Yuri's little group along the road somewhere.

Judith and Karol express relief that he's okay-- the wounds really aren't that bad, thankfully, not like some of the Knights they'd pulled out of the Citadel when they finally managed to push past the lines of (monsters?) that Alexei had somehow called up to block the city below. It was-- not pretty.

When Guild arrived, it was in time to rescue a few Knights but not to understand what the hell happened. Frankly, the idea that something had enough oomph to wipe out the Knights wasn't sitting well with a lot of people.

Flynn bitterly says, "oh, don't worry-- we did it to ourselves." And when that gets him blank/alarmed looks, he takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts, and tried to put his memories into words.

He had been awakened by the alarm bells, had thrown himself into his armour and gone out to defend the Citadel, only to find that the enemies weren't coming from outside. Some of his own Brothers and Sisters were wearing bright, new red uniforms, and cutting ruthlessly through the lines of confused blue that stood half-heartedly against them. Right at the head of attack was Commandant Alexei, with the key to the tower hanging around his neck.

The fighting had been fierce-- Knight against Knight, both sides strong and all but invulnerable under their Oath, a stalemate battle. They'd had the advantage of numbers but the severe disadvantage of being stunned and reluctant to fight those who they still considered on some level to be their own.

But then something in the air changed-- Captain Schwann had arrived out of nowhere, despite the fact that he was supposed to be off in Heliord supervising something, rallying them and calling an unexpected retreat, sending them out-and-out fleeing the Citadel. A lot of them questioned the move, Flynn included, but Schwann had been grim-faced and insistent.

Flynn's group made it to the gates, just before— before he heard something in the air, something big and loud and roaring that shook the citadel, or maybe it was him that was shaking. The noise swelled and vibrated through his skull, sending him staggering to his knees-- him and all the others around him. Seemed to be coming from the tall spire of the Tower. The walls were showering down dust, and something crashed nearby, but he couldn't look, just crouched there with his head in his hands, braced against nothing, until one last rapid spin made Flynn's legs go out from under him completely and there was nothing but darkness.

Yuri confirms that the tower was destroyed, at which Flynn has to close his eyes and duck his head, grief and anger and frustration. Alexei must have destroyed the great Bodhi Blastia on which every Knight's Oath was sworn. Done something to nullify or break the Oath. But why? It would have weakened him and his supporters as well.

Yeah, well, I'm grateful for that, at least. If we'd had to fight Knights to get you out of the city, I guarantee you wouldn't be here now.

"There was no one at all?" Waited for the shake of Yuri's head before continuing. "Any red uniforms among the fallen?"

"Nope."

"Alexei must have planned for it, then. Had supporters to take his Knights away to recover in safety. He knew exactly what he was doing. Doesn't answer the question of why, though."

"We'll figure it out," Yuri reassured. He sounded his usual confident self, like this was no different from any other problem. Flynn let himself find that reassuring. "In the meantime, you just focus on getting yourself back to normal, all right? First thing, clean clothes."

Flynn looks down, pulling open the blanket just far enough to see the dust and blood streaking his uniform, and grimaces. They hunt up a change of clothes for him and help him change-- right there in the middle of camp, but he'd lived in barracks long enough not to care, and no one seemed to be paying that much attention anyway. His base layer was mostly intact, it was just the uniform that was beyond saving. And was most recognizable, he realizes, sourly. Dressed in his new clothes he could have been just another sword for hire, one of the Guild's running men.

He was shaking a bit when he sat down again. Not long after, he starts drooping, doesn't recognize the fact until he's practically asleep sitting up and Yuri's hand is lightly shaking his shoulder.

He didn't remember how he got back to his assigned tent, though he imagined it was with a lot of Yuri's help. He did remember reaching out to Yuri when he made to duck back out the flap, though. "I'm still cold," he answered Yuri's questioning look. He doesn't quite make it a request. He is cold, but even beyond that, he really doesn't want to be alone.

Yuri looks at him for just a split second before kicking off his boots and settling on the pallet next to Flynn, tucking them both together with the ease of practice. Flynn settled his face into the crook of Yuri's shoulder and breathed a grateful sigh-- this, at least, was familiar, and for a while he could pretend that nothing had changed, that the last days hadn't happened. Never mind that he could feel the hard ground through their thin bed like he never had before, and never mind that they usually didn't do this in the middle of a camp full of Guild soldiers and in a tent where anyone could walk in.

With Yuri's breath tickling along his hairline and Yuri's warmth seeping into his skin, it didn't take Flynn long to fall asleep.

He woke again with the sun already high and Yuri gone, and the feeling that he had overslept. Even still, he loses more time dragging around half-awake while he dresses and finds food. He's vaguely aware that their camp is much smaller, most of the tents that had been there now gone, but he did seem to remember Yuri saying that they would be leaving. They're scattering, spreading out to various hidden locations until they could be sure that Alexei's traitors or the mysterious co-conspirators wouldn't be coming after them. Sure enough, as he finishes eating Judith comes up and leads him to a cart parked where his tent had been, she and Karol and Yuri waiting to leave as soon as he's ready.

He falls into a half-doze again in the cart, rocked by the motion of the wheels over the rutted track. He came fully alert long enough to eat a meal, at one point, and then not again until it was dark when Yuri led him to bed again.

Thankfully, when he woke the next morning he felt more alert. Vaguely ashamed of his weakness, he comes outside, stretches and winces, and breaks down his own tent to pack up. Karol gives him a big grin from the cart as he passes the canvas bundle up; Yuri's smile is more in his eyes, but Flynn kind of thinks it's relieved.

"Not gonna lie, Flynn, it's been disconcerting as hell seeing you so out of it."

It was awkward re-learning things he'd put aside in childhood and never truly expected to need again. Like dressing for the elements, and blowing on hot food before eating it. Or like eating at regular intervals at all; the first time he ended up with the clawing tension of hunger in his belly, it took him far too long to understand. It was a habit formed over a lot of years; among the Knights, eating was more of a social event, a chance to sit down with ones Brethren and exchange news. On the road, though, the others had been grabbing handfuls as they moved, necessity rather than pleasure, and Flynn just-- hadn't noticed. It left him frustrated almost to the point of tears, feeling betrayed by his own body.

Yuri, who knew him all too well, of course noticed. From then on he started watching, putting food into his hands as they travelled, sitting Flynn down at mealtimes until he pled fullness. Part of him resented being treated like a child; most of him was grateful for the reminder.

He napped his way through the next two days. He missed the point when Karol and Judith apparently broke off on their own, laying down false trails or simply taking their own route. He's sad he didn't get to say goodbye, but Yuri reassured him they would be meeting up again before long.

When they stopped that night, Yuri waited until they were settled in before giving Flynn an assessing look and then going to pry up a board at the back of the cart. Flynn watched him, puzzled until Yuri pulled a long, wrapped bundle out of the revealed hollow, and then Flynn's breath caught.

"Here," Yuri said, tossing the bundle down at Flynn's feet. Flynn reached out to unwrap it, unsurprised when the close fell away to reveal a sword-- his own sword, apparently scavenged from the Citadel along with his body.

"You've got to start sometime." Yuri gestured him out to a clear patch of ground, pulling his own blade and assuming a ready pose.

Flynn felt more hopeful than he had in days as he moved to join him.

The hopeful feeling didn't last, of course. His performance was pathetic, his reflexes confused by signals they didn't recognize (like strained joints and stepping on sharp stones and the burn of renewed calluses on his palm and the occasional stabbing reminder of his healing wounds) and he barely lasted ten minutes. But at the same time there was something familiar, something comfortable about the feel of the weapon in his hand. Something reassuring in the way he automatically moved to hold it properly, even if his body wasn't quite comfortable doing so.

After, he nearly fell to a seated position near the fire, struggling to slow his breathing. He lifted his arm and studied the livid purple-black bruises already swelling there. Presses a thumb into one, thoughtfully, and hisses at the sting. He doesn't let up, though, feeling the way it hurt, measuring it, committing it to memory, and eventually nodding to himself.

The pain was bearable. He would heal, he would relearn how his body reacts, how it feels, and he'll be able to fight again. He hasn't lost the skill, he just has to relearn how to get by on a strength that was merely human.

He could do this.

Yuri slept next to him again that night, as he had every night since Flynn asked that first time; didn't bother to question it anymore, and Flynn wasn't about to push him away, even if he wanted to-- he was still cold, a lot of the time.

His closeness, though, was probably at least partly why Flynn dreamt vividly of skin and sweat and darkness, he wakes up gasping and shaking with Yuri's alarmed murmur in his ear. All he can do is moan, totally focused on the hot, burning ache between his legs, light-headed and flushed hotly. He knew what it had to be, even if it had never happened to him before. He'd never felt the need, before-- another effect of the Oath, separating him from the weaknesses and needs of the flesh. He supposed he should have expected this, even though he could never have anticipated just how it felt. This was what Yuri had had to deal with all these years? How did he stand it?

Yuri, of course, noticed his state after a moment, and Flynn made a strangled sound that could have been either protest or needy encouragement as he reached down in almost disbelieving slowness to touch.

The barest brush of his fingers set off a chain reaction that had Flynn strangling down a scream, convulsing, his vision washing white. He lay there gasping after, totally wrung out, pathetically grateful for the way that Yuri just wrapped arms around him and didn't say anything, giving him the time to pull himself together.

So. He had dreamt, and he had-- come. He'd seen Yuri come often enough, see how it sometimes wrung him out, but he still hadn't been prepared for that. It-- felt good, he supposed? Or it would have, if the sensations weren't so completely overwhelming, hadn't completely shorted out his ability to feel anything. He probably should reserve judgement on it for now. Something about it had kept Yuri coming back for more all these years.

He eventually gets himself together, though still embarrassingly shaky, and looks up to the inevitable questioning eyebrow from Yuri. "Another side-effect," Yuri doesn't quite ask.

"Yeah," Flynn mutters. He rubs a trembling hand over his eyes, shifts awkwardly and winces at the cooling mess on his thighs.

A pause, then: "well, we'll just have to work on that one too, hm?"

It was more tentative than Flynn typically heard from Yuri. Not that anyone else would have noticed. "Yeah, I guess so," he replies, and feels Yuri relax against him. He burrows in, closes his eyes again and focuses on breathing, using the steady thump of Yuri's heartbeat to center himself.

Next morning, embarrassed now that he has the mental awareness to be. Grateful after all that the others hadn't been there to hear him, because he was pretty sure he hadn't been quiet. Yuri doesn't mention it, just gives him a warm, considering look and passes him breakfast.

They travel further, discuss the possibility of abandoning the cart soon if Flynn's recovery keeps coming along enough for him to walk any distance. Would be easier to hide a trail on foot, though he doesn't want to wear out Flynn too much yet.

Camp, eat, Yuri pulls out his sword and they try a few moves again. Flynn frustrated and trying to be as patient with himself as Yuri is being with him. It isn't easy; he remembers exactly how to do what he is trying to do, but his body simply refuses to move fast enough, grip tight enough. After the third time Yuri knocks his sword out his hands without hardly trying, they call it quits for the day. Flynn eats his evening meal in a fuming silence that is slow to fade.

"Hey."

Flynn glances up, not speaking.

"You'll get there," Yuri said simply. Considering look, then Yuri is neatly tucking away their gear and standing, extending a hand to Flynn in invitation. "Come on."

He leads them into their tent tent, where instead of lying down Yuri sits himself on their improvised bed, patting the space before him. Flynn settles down there hesitantly, leaning back against Yuri's chest when directed. "What are you doing?" he asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew.

"Just trying to help," Yuri says lightly. His hand is on Flynn's leg, rubbing gently; the other is settled against his chest. "I'll stop if you want."

Flynn takes a deep breath and lets it out, relaxing back in Yuri's hold as much as he can. His body is already responding to the touch, his skin prickling and an ache beginning to build low in his abdomen. It's-- unnerving, being so much at the mercy of urges out of his control. He knows it will get better, that it won't always be like this, that he'll get used to it, but that thought doesn't help when the mere brush of Yuri's fingers on his thigh makes that hot, needy pressure start low in his belly. Starts that slow slide into being so totally out of control. He's nervous-- would be terrified, probably, if it weren't Yuri. If he didn't know that Yuri, at least, would see him through this safely.

Because it's Yuri, he leans back and closes his eyes while Yuri's clever fingers undo his trousers, push them down, press against him, deftly grab hold and begin stroking. Flynn arches into the first touch, helpless not to, keeps raising his hips into Yuri's grasp as he pumps his hand in smooth, even motions. Turns his head to muffle his helpless moan against Yuri's throat as he comes, all too soon.

"Well, that was embarrassing", he said when he came back to his senses. It had been a matter of mere minutes since they started.

Feels Yuri's laugh against his back. "Come on, you remember what I was like."

"Yeah, when you were thirteen."

"And you were already under Oath by then, so it's not like you have any practice at this. Give yourself a break, would you?"

He can feel Yuri hard against his back, but his arms are still shaky when he tries to reach back for him and Yuri has no problem gently pushing him away. "Don't worry about that right now."

"But--"

Yuri starts to shift him about until they're lying down. "Next time, okay? Just go to sleep; you're already halfway there."

Flynn means to say something more, he really does, but as soon as his head hits the pillow he's gone.

They worked generally north and west, not really heading anywhere in particular so much as just keeping moving. Eventually they did ditch the cart, once Flynn was sure his legs would hold him through an entire day's walking. He fell asleep that night before they even got the tent up, his legs aching and a dry burn behind his eyes. But he woke the next morning without any after-effects, and insisted that they keep going.

Their routine held-- wake, walk, camping, eating, doing it all again the next day. More often than not, they did a quick round with their swords after eating, and Flynn's strength and stamina began to rebound with heartening speed. Before too long he was able to hold out against Yuri's full-strength attacks for at least the first few minutes of their sparring; even if he rapidly tired after that point, it was still a large step in the right direction.

Also more often than not, when they got to their tent at the end of the day it was a while before they actually got to sleep, if Flynn's energy hadn't already deserted him from the day. It was certainly different being on the receiving end of that sort of attention-- he'd used his mouth and his hands on Yuri over the years, of course, once it became apparent that Yuri wanted that sort of thing and once Flynn had made it clear that he didn't mind giving it. Flynn had never had any cause to regret that he couldn't feel the same need; he had enjoyed giving Yuri that pleasure, and though he'd seemed a little reluctant at first, Yuri had also seemed to make peace with the arrangement. Flynn had been happy to learn all the spots that made Yuri moan and squirm, the best ways to touch to bring him off hard and fast or to stretch it out.

Yuri, it seemed, was intent on learning all of the same things about Flynn, now that he could. With great enthusiasm. Flynn was excruciatingly sensitive at first-- unsurprising, as he was excruciatingly sensitive about most things these days-- and Yuri used that to shameless advantage.

Rolling around together, touching, getting really worked up.. Yuri muttering filthy, reverent curses, want you, let me, can I, as he slides one hand around to grab at Flynn's ass, nudge one finger in close and unmistakeable.

Flynn, his throat too tight for words, just nods. That's something that they'd never done. Yuri'd turned Flynn down the first and only time he'd offered, firmly enough that Flynn had never offered again.

Yuri didn't seem inclined to hesitate now, though. Pulls out a little of the fine mineral oil they use on their weapons, slicks Flynn up like a pro-- and that was definitely an interesting sensation, it nearly sent him over the edge right then, trembling and wide-eyed. He'd never expected those nerves to be so sensitive.

"Okay?"

"Hell yes," Flynn breathed, and felt the shake of Yuri's shoulders as he laughed.

It's vaguely uncomfortable at first when Yuri pushes in, then awesome when Yuri hit him just right-- and then he was losing it despite his best efforts, with the first touch of Yuri's hand on him again. Too much stimulation on overtaxed nerves. He might have actually whimpered when Yuri thrust in again, one hand scrabbling for his shoulder, whether to push him away or pull him closer he couldn't have said.

"Too much?" Yuri asked, breathless.

Flynn desperately wanted to say no, wanted to be able to see things through to the end, but then Yuri thrust again, just a little, and it really was too much. "Yes," he managed, wincing, and Yuri drew back immediately. "Sorry."

"No problem," Yuri answered tightly, one hand already down and moving on himself. Flynn watched through heavy satiation, feeling the most like his old self at that moment than he had since this whole mess had begun. Flynn did kind of miss the objectivity he used to have, the ability to stay calm and watch Yuri come apart under his touch. He really had enjoyed that. Now, he couldn't seem to do anything without becoming aroused as well, and that was-- distracting. But it was a beautiful thing, too, to be able to take that rush into pleasure together, he supposed, and too-- perhaps once he became more used to the whole thing, he would be able to regain some of his previous control. He had really enjoyed watching Yuri come apart.

Like now. After a minute or so Yuri stiffens and comes across his hip, and Flynn just holds his breath and watches.

They were quiet for a few minutes. Flynn considered letting the entire incident pass without comment, but eventually decided to challenge Yuri on it after all. "That was new."

"Guess it was," Yuri replied blandly.

Flynn rolled his eyes. "Any particular reason we haven't done that before?" he asked. "You certainly looked like you enjoyed yourself."

"Oh, I did."

"Well, then?"

Yuri stayed quiet for another moment, still, then huffed and shrugged. "It's different now, I guess. Before-- the idea of you just lying there and taking it didn't really do it for me."

Flynn blinked, then found himself barking out a loud laugh. "What have I ever done to make you think I'd lie there and take it?"

"Shut up," Yuri said easily. "It just didn't feel right, okay? Felt-- like I'd be using you."

"But blow jobs were different?" Flynn asked, bemused.

"There was always a certain amount of active participation involved in that," Yuri said dryly. He grabbed a rag, wiped them both down so they won't soil their blankets too much, then rolled them both over into a more comfortable position. "Shut up, okay; so what if it's not really rational. Since when does this shit have to make sense?"

Flynn had the urge to kiss him-- so he did, levering himself up and over just enough to brush lips. Relaxing again, he settled in and closed his eyes.

They came up against the northern mountain ranges and turned into the foothills, skirting the edge of where rolling, grassy hills gave way to rocky crags and deep valleys. Yuri acted like he was waiting for something, moving without the focussed drive of the previous days, merely hopping from cover to cover. And sure enough, after a few days of this, a piercing whistle sounded from somewhere nearby.

Yuri fitted fingers to his lips and sent back an answering whistle. It's Karol and Judith-- and someone else. Yuri watches them approach with narrow eyes, until they're close enough and then this eyes go wide with recognition. "Rita!" All three of them were a little dusty and battered. "What happened?"

"Aspio is gone," Judith told them as soon as they were close enough. "Completely destroyed. There was a series of explosions; no one is completely certain what caused them. But the first one went off in the Knights' storehouse, and one of the survivors remembers seeing a few Knights in red uniforms dropping off a shipment the week before."


"You're going to kick his ass, right? You'd better be. Asshole needs to pay." Rita looked pissed; she also looked mildly concussed, probably from whatever injury was hiding under the bandage over her forehead, but that didn't take away from the rage in her eyes. Flynn had met the mage a few times, and knew her to be generally cranky as a matter of course, but he'd never seen her truly angry.

"You're all right?" Yuri asked her quietly, and she huffed, crossing her arms and hunching her shoulders a little.

"We had a little bit of warning," she says, "not of specifics, but when the Knights fell apart they knew that something was wrong, at least. Most of the mages got out, scattered to various safe places, but-- not all. And certainly not all of their books and research and supplies." The anger wavered, fell, and was replaced by despair. "Years and years of priceless data, gone."

"The mages were probably the only power equal to the Knights, potentially," Flynn said quietly. "Of course Alexei had to get rid of them to keep his advantage, and he had to do it quickly before they knew there was a threat."

"Mistake," Rita says. "Big mistake. We're gonna kick his ass."

Yuri grins, crooked and sharp. "Damned right we are."

"I was passed an interesting message from a few of the other refugees near Aspio," Judith said. "Apparently if anyone is thinking about opposing Alexei they might be interested in visiting the ruins of Shaikos to the northeast."

Yuri arched an eyebrow. "Sounds like a trap."

"I thought so, too, at first. But the message was liberally sprinkled with Union passcodes. That sort of thing would be very, very difficult to counterfeit."

"Hm." Yuri still looked a little sceptical, but there was a light in his eyes that Flynn usually associated with mayhem. "Whose name is on it?"

"Someone called Raven. I know, I've never heard of him either. But it's countersigned by Don Whitehorse."

Yuri gave a low whistle, and Flynn was tempted to do the same. The Don was the unofficial head of the Guilds, the one person that they all answered to no matter what colours they wore. His presence basically meant full Guild cooperation, which was kind of astonishing, but-- hell, it just served to drive home how serious the situation was. The Knights had always been inviolable, trusted, etc. The Guild hadn't necessarily agreed with how they did things, but it had always trusted them to a certain extent. The Oath made sure of that, kept them honest. If that Oath could be undermined, though, if all of that power and strength could be turned to darker causes-- that made them a threat. Not just to the Guild or the other former Knights, but to everyone.

It took them longer than it otherwise might have to reach Shaikos, because they took pains to hide their trail and avoid others on the road. Probably paranoid, but the alternative was to risk putting both themselves and their potential allies at risk if Alexei had people patrolling the roads.

At first glance, the ruins seemed abandoned, but someone vaguely familiar melted out of the shadows, waited with an arrow nocked for them to give their passcodes and confirm their identity, then led them to a trap door leading under the city. Down there, there were people sitting in all of the corners, a regular refugee camp. Flynn saw a lot of other former Knights in the mix, who looked like hell, quite frankly: dark circles under their eyes, tight pinched faces. They came across Adecor and Boccos part way in, and they were too miserable to even retaliate when Yuri greeted them with an offhand insult. It gave Flynn a new appreciation for Yuri's patient help, that Flynn was as far along on his recovery as he was.

It was good to see so many of his Brethren alive, though. He had worried. He wanted to go and find them all, talk to them, just-- reconnect, in whatever way they could now that the Oath was gone. But not yet; they had a meeting to attend first.

They went further and further into the ruins, following the directions of people along the way. Finally arrive at what must have been the makeshift headquarters, a larger area filled with map-covered tables and proudly featuring the banner of the Guild. The imposing figure of the Don was standing to one side, talking with someone Flynn didn't recognize-- until they turned around and resolved into someone very familiar, despite the lack of uniform. "Captain Schwann?" Flynn called, incredulous.

"The name's Raven," the man corrects easily enough, walking over to them. "I'm afraid the good Captain didn't make it out of the Citadel."

Flynn stared at the features too familiar for him to have understood. "I-- I don't understand."

"It's simple," Schwann-- Raven said flatly. "Captain Schwann was working for the wrong side. See, once upon a time Alexei managed to dig his bloody fingers into the good Captain's Oath, made him go along with his schemes. Except now the Oath is broken and he's free, so he went and spilled the beans." As Raven, he's far more relaxed, almost impossible to recognize with his dusty brown hair pulled back and a slouch in his posture. He looked tired, like the rest of them, but also-- more determined.

"You know his plans, then?"

Raven nodded. "Short version? Alexei wants the power of the Child of the Full Moon, and he thinks he knows a way to get it. Plans to summon it down on the next full moon, and use the body of the Princess to bind and contain it."

Flynn's eyes went wide. The Child of the Full Moon was the mythical, god-like figure their Order is built around. If Alexei had a way to channel and use the Child's power - a way to use the body of the very human Princess for that purpose - it would be catastrophic. Flynn knows Princess Estellise as a quiet figurehead of a girl. She was nice enough, had a lot of potential, Flynn thought, but she was sheltered, trotted out at all of the formal occasions but otherwise kept locked up tight in the palace.

"To succeed, though, Alexei first needed to be rid of any Knights who weren't a part of his plan-- like you, Flynn. Those who he knew wouldn't go for it. Then once he had the Citadel, he could go forward with the rest of it on the next full moon."

"So how do we stop him?" Yuri asked, as if it were that simple.

Maybe it was, because Raven was answering. "Storm the Citadel, take out Alexei, make sure the Princess is safe. What else?" He shrugged. "It'll be a couple of days yet before we can leave, but it'll be soon-- we need to be back in Zaphias and in position to strike just before the next full moon. So get yourself restocked and rested up, and be ready, yeah?"

"Just don't leave us behind, old man."

Raven's eyes went too wide and melodramatically hurt for him to have been truly offended. "Who're you calling old, kid?"

That seemed to be the end of it for now. A little numb, Flynn asked about getting some air, and followed direction to a side path and emerges back up into the upper part of the city, an isolated block unreachable from the surface. He looks up-- sees a bare sliver of moon in the sky, waxing.

Yuri comes to find him, of course, sits with him until Flynn starts to shiver and then leads him back down below with a light hand on his shoulders. Yuri has already found a reasonably private spot for them to hole up together, has laid down their bedrolls side by side; Flynn is more than willing to let himself be distracted as Yuri kisses him. Answers the question in Yuri's face and posture with a firm grip on the back of Yuri's head.

Yuri lies back and spreads his legs and pulls Flynn close in an unmistakeable request. Flynn is happy to oblige. He still comes too quickly, leaving Yuri hanging until he can get his wits and his breath back and lean down to finish the job with his mouth. He'd get better at that too, he knew--

If they had the time.

Lying there after, Flynn tries: "Yuri, if-- if we don't--"

"Stop that. We're going to win," Yuri says, all calm confidence.

Flynn considers that, then nods, once. "It's going to be a hard fight," he comments.

"Isn't it always?" Pause. "You going to be up for it?"

"Yes," Flynn answered firmly. He would be. He'd make sure of it.

Silence, then: "You know," Flynn said softly, "that if the Oath can be fixed, after all of this is over--"

"You'll go back to it," Yuri finished for him. "I know." There was no hint of censure in his voice, but Flynn winced anyway. Yuri gave him a steady look, half-shadowed in the dark. "I've never wanted to change you, Flynn. I think you were born to be a Knight. You wouldn't be you if your duty didn't come first," he finished. If there was a certain wistful, wry twist to his mouth, neither of them commented on it.

"No use worrying about it now, anyway," Yuri added a few seconds later, pragmatic as ever. "Deal with the rest first, and then we'll see. If it goes back to the way things were-- well, I can't say I won't miss this--" He moved a little, pressed his leg against Flynn's cock-- which, despite their very recent activity, stirred a little in interest. "But I lived without it before and can again, and at least we had this time." He fixed Flynn with a sharp look. "What if it can't be fixed? Will you be able to live with it if the Knights are done forever?"

Flynn actually thought about it, instead of tossing off a quick answer, and Yuri gave him the silence to do so. "Yes," he eventually said. "There's nothing saying I can't still live according to the standards of the Order, can't still do the work even if the Oath is broken. And who knows, if the Child of the Full Moon gets involved, somehow, then all the rules might end up rewritten anyway."

"True," Yuri said ruefully. "May we live in interesting times." Brief silence. "I suppose I couldn't really see you joining a Guild, at that."

Flynn smiles. So yes, maybe whatever Alexei had done could never be fixed, and the days of the Knights as they knew them were over. Maybe it was time that humans defended themselves instead of creating superhumans to do it for them. Whatever happened, they would at least have tried their best, and they'd do it together.