in a way that matters

by kidlightnings (revolver)

Summary:

The summoner Mark is held captive by Eitri. This is a complicated ordeal for both of them. The aftermath is even more so for Karel, Volke, and the remainder.

Notes:

When I said body horror...
I need to clarify: the horror is what you can do with your own body.

Ties directly into summoner supports, but I've posted this as a separate work due to the drastic tonal shift. for anyone curious about where this falls in the timeline, the events contained herein happen at some point after chapter 11 and before chapter 12

I'm just gonna say it's a good thing Mark already told their partners they can roll time back (:

Chapter 1: holding a gun to a mushroom

When they'd slipped their bonds, Mark had initially tried to lead the sage on a merry chase through the woods, put their longer legs to use, and escape cleanly that way. They weren't trying to hurt a child, even if said child seemed to be of questionable character.

Getting caught with magic that knocked their legs out from under them, down onto the forest floor wasn't part of the plan.

They rolled it back.

Sidestepped.

Let the leaves be kicked up where they weren't anymore.

Caught another hit on the arm.

Roll back.

Twist out of the way, duck behind a tree.

Slip behind another, run right into her.

Roll back.

Other direction, drop down a hollow, dash off further, another hit, roll back, stay still, quiet, under the lip, her eyes peering over at them, roll back further, different path, roll back-

They felt dizzy.

There was no going back from that.

Their foot slipped on wet leaves. They stared up at her. Eitri shouldn't have mustered such a look with such a small, childlike face. Some kind of dragon, they'd guess.

"Hell is your problem?!" they wheezed. "Why do you want me so bad?"

"Why do you keep acting like you know exactly what I'm going to do, before I do it? You're too worn out for this little jaunt, summoner… what are you doing?"

They set their jaw, lips pressed tightly together.

"That expression alone…you're doing something, and I'm going to find it out…"

Mark rolled their eyes.

One more time.

They focused, rolled back to before they'd slipped their bonds.

Stayed exactly put.

It wasn't time, yet.

"Water …please, I need water," they croaked.

"So needy, summoner. Don't worry, you'll be set up in a nice enclosure once we arrive."

They swallowed, tried to, at least, their head swimming.

It was just that when they saw it, after having their head covered, stumbling down hallways, stairs, and finally light stinging their eyes – a cage.

The time had gotten too blurry to try to get back to when they were captured. They could only return to that moment right before they'd slipped one thumb out of its place and scraped their hand through their restraints.

That did them little good. They'd run those scenarios.

And even if they could, they weren't trying to go back further than that. The idea sent a wave of uncertainty through them. Too many variables, too many things to recalculate, too much chance of some butterfly a world over flapping its wings.

They instead just settled in. They'd never had skill in locks. Besides, Eitri was clearly no fool. Their sense of direction was good – not that good as to find their way out with their head having been covered.

So, this was the part of the game where they waited to be rescued, it seemed.

"So, tell me what I'm here for? Clearly summoning, you didn't get me for my skills with the blade…" they finally said.

"You're a key component in my research," Eitri answered, holding up something shockingly similar to their own weapon, but with a fell aura surrounding it.

"Oh, you need blood? You could have just asked, or, oh, gotten that without such dire measures."

"No, I need something far more delicate from you."

"Oh. I'm so sorry to disappoint, but if you needed a virgin, we're going to have to get into some very esoteric technicalities-"

"No, you rube. Your soul."

"Oh. Well, that's probably going to kill me, so…you get one shot, sounds like. Better make it count."

She leaned against the bars, smirked up at them.

She gave them the creeps.

It would be far too simple, Mark imagined, to just grab her and wring her neck, harm to a child clause entirely forgotten. She wouldn't leave herself open like that.

So they sat back.

"Oh, don't worry, dear summoner. I will very much make it count. …You look awfully calm, though!"

They shrugged.

"You don't know how to do that," they said. "Or else why am I still in this cage?"

"I know how. I'm preparing! You're not the only component."

"Oh. You don't, though," they said, a little grin on their lips. "Someone else, sure. Me? No."

She shook her head, with a mirrored smile on her lips. "Mark, you're nothing special. Even if you are from another world. I've seen countless souls taken from their bodies. Yours is unique, but not in its attachment to your body."

They chuckled. "No, I don't imagine so, in that you're probably right. Well. That will be fun for you to figure out."

They turned on the bench, lay down, pulling their hood over their head, finally tucking their arms into their coat sleeves.

She made a small hmph, and they heard the small shoes retreat.

They lay and thought of the carnage that would be en route for their retrieval. Their thighs squeezed together.

–

Karel seethed.

"We are not going after them, why?" he demanded.

Anna crossed her arms, leveled him with a firm glare. "We are, of course! We just need to know what we're walking into! We're scouting ahead…this forest is full of traps!"

"Traps are nothing, I'm going ahead," he snapped.

"I am your commander, remember your place!" she said, and Karel turned, eyes narrowed. "You are under contract to Mark, who obeys me."

He exhaled. Crossed his arms, but stilled.

"Then command me to go ahead."

"She won't do that… will you, commander?"

Of course Volke had found his way in.

"But, you could send me to scout… To make it easier to find safe paths through the woods."

Anna studied him a long moment, then nodded.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. No heroics. We're the order of heroes, not the order of lone wolves."

"Of course," Volke said.

Karel couldn't tear his eyes off of the man.

"He is not coming with you," Anna added. "If you need support, take any of the other thieves."

"Leila," he said, easily. "She's done a lot of work alone, and knows… the value of discretion."

"Not Legault?" Anna asked, brow raised.

"No, I don't need to double my skill set that close… you may need him other places."

Anna nodded. "Then, good luck. We'll follow after once preparations are complete."

Karel stayed standing, watched as Volke went, efficient, cold, a different person in that moment.

"You'll be at the forward, don't worry," Anna said. "I understand. I'm just not going to throw us into chaos over it. We stay with the plan. Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast."

And he suddenly knew perfectly well why Mark would defer to her. Why he as well had to.

"Understood…commander," he said, the word bitter on his tongue.

–

Leila moved like a ghost alongside him, splitting off now and then, testing the ground, skirting around the edges of dirt that to his eye, looked no different than its surroundings, but somehow, she saw something, and as they went, as she flipped a pebble into a clearing and watched the whole thing erupt in flame, she was right. He didn't care to look for any instance of her being wrong.

"Good having you here," he said.

She gave him a clever little grin. "And now I'm helping you not be on the other side of where I was snatched from… funny."

He swallowed.

She was too perceptive. Legault at least had the tact not to say things so directly even if he did know.

"Just to let you know I'm committed to this," she said.

"Ah," he said, mouth dry, suddenly.

"Don't think too hard about it. Endings have been a lot happier here."

He gave her a weak smile.

–

"Come quietly, you know now that I'm far stronger than you."

There was something unstable, something they could only perceive as static around them as Eitri pulled them from the cage and towards the circle.

They at least could return stably to the cage. A few trials validated that.

She looked at them oddly as she pulled them from the cage and towards the circle.

With its just being themself and her in this laboratory, they were struck with the sudden awareness that they truly were bringing the flow of time to a complete halt, dragging it backwards for the entire world around them.

What gods were watching, they wondered?

Could a god be pulled back so easily as an army formation? Did the world rebuild itself outward from here every time? Did stubs keep moving forward-

Eitri looked up at them.

"You're sweating an awful lot for someone who won't stop being smart with me. You don't need to worry, it will only hurt a moment before you don't feel a thing at all."

"It's…"

Mark paused, looked around. Upon putting their foot into the circle, everything was far quieter.

They took in breath.

"Oh, yes, the magic is very strong. It silences many things, isolates the soul…"

"Does it now…" Mark asked.

"And you'll be entirely unable to move once I step out."

"I highly doubt that," they said, and then, the moment she did, they were forced to believe.

They couldn't even redirect their gaze to follow her.

Inconvenient.

They could regress, though.

Except that Mark stayed fixed in place, and Eitri looked from their cage where they stood to the circle where they were frozen.

"-far stronger than… what?" she asked, looking between them.

The two of them.

They felt weak. They weren't dropping from it, despite the way their chest ached.

Their other self was staring at them.

Roll back.

"-far stronger than- what!?"

"Hello-"

They couldn't recoil in horror. Their chest felt rent in two.

What they stared at was suddenly not themself. It was an abomination of flesh, rending at the seams before slopping apart, two beings trying to occupy the same space, bursting into blood at the compression, the intersection that couldn't exist.

What they felt was their own death. They'd never felt it before, but they suddenly, clearly knew the feeling, that weakness, following into that sinking, that darkness, and then their chest felt too full suddenly, like a deep inhale but without the breath.

Eitri strode to them.

"Mark! My dear summoner!"

They didn't dare do it again.

"Well, isn't that unexpected! I haven't met a proper regressor in quite some centuries…"

They couldn't breathe.

She looked at the bodies laying on the ground.

"You're going to keep doing that," she said.

She stepped into the circle and suddenly they could move.

"Hah, no? Make me. You'll, what, kill me? Then what?"

"Oh, summoner, I don't have to kill you."

She pointed at the spot right inside of the cage doors, apart from the spot occupied by the bloody mess of merged corpses. It was precisely where they'd been standing before stepping back to let her open the door. Before that horror had appeared. "I'll step out. You'll regress to here," she said.

True to her word, they were frozen again.

They wanted to laugh. The feeling was unpleasant at worst. They could stand it a long time.

Then the spear point pressed into their shoulder. Outside of their view, unable to move their head, they hadn't seen her pick it up or it pierce the barrier.

They couldn't scream, couldn't wrench back, could do nothing but stay frozen as the steel broke through their skin, then muscle, as it scraped their bone, their body stuck as though suspended in aspic and her weapon, a scalpel.

Their heart still beat for how the blood spilled down their skin, soaking their shirt, their coat. So then only voluntary muscle movements were frozen.

"That has to hurt," she said, staring into their still eyes. "I'll heal it if you regress like I told you."

They couldn't grit their teeth and tell her to fuck off.

She stared at the spot.

"Mark, I'm waiting. Did you forget how? Let me help you remember."

It drove deeper.

They couldn't move, but could feel the hot sting of tears welling up.

The slow motion of the point breaking through to the other side had them incredibly aware that they were breathing because it had grown so quick and shallow that their vision was darkening at the edges.

"Oh, don't try to go anywhere!" Eitri said.

The tingling balm that came over them set a terror in their gut.

She let the spear end rest on the ground, point still on the other side of them, intersection pulling at the wound, feeling far too heavy, too open, unnatural and agonizing, and stepped from their field of view.

Their cheeks were wet with tears already when the second point pierced them, sinking into their forearm, between the two bones. They couldn't even see it. A thin blade?

The blade twisted. The bones creaked, separating slowly, flesh pulling, skin bulging-

Their double appeared there behind the cage door.

Their wounds were suddenly empty, bled freely.

They could see it in their own eyes, the exact knowledge of what happened. Their own memories up to that very moment, standing staring at themself. Divergence.

Eitri seemed to seize, unaware of what she was seeing, then looked between them, smiled broadly at them.

"Oh. Oh! A regressor? Did I send myself a gift from the future? Hehe, let me explain… So, you see, time is locked for you…but not for anyone else… it took me a long time to devise such a spell! But, it was the only way to effectively kill your kind… and how fortunate, that's exactly the same spell I adapted to hold a body and let a soul be extracted… and how convenient! It lets you do it for me! Now, let me explain to you how this will work-"

They could kill their copy right now, splicing another of themself into the same splinter of time.

Their copy knew it.

Could their copy kill themself?

They watched themself, though, steady, something in their own eyes.

Wait.

They were telling themself to wait.

"You will not kill yourself," Eitri continued. "I don't have an effective means to prevent you, but you know now that I can make it very much-"

The other them seemed to focus.

"Aht!" Eitri snapped. "Ah, not that it will work!"

They appeared again in the same spot as they'd been formed, consternation on their face.

Eitri looked back over her shoulder at them in the circle.

"Oh. Oh! A regressor? Did I send myself a gift from the future? Hehe-"

Their copy reached for her and had her by the arm, dragged her forward, her arm into the enclosure.

Then there was screaming.

The copy lay fractured, but Eitri's arm ran through the mess of conjoined flesh.

She tore it free with a screech and snarled at them as they watched the flesh reform like reality was a glove being pulled from unblemished skin.

"Oh, you're terrible," she laughed, looked at the wreck of their two selves on the ground. "Let's try this again, regressor! And this time, if you pull another ploy like that-"

The fire that consumed their left hand was at first simply hot, then, in painstaking detail, they could feel the agony begin to build, their skin start to crack, bubble, burst, and then they lost feeling.

Every wound suddenly ceased, smooth and whole.

"I'm going to take you out of this, and we're going to make some new memories together. And you're going to, in order, give me some doubles to play with. And if you don't do it how I like? Consider your whole body feeling in just such a way!"

They were going to be ill.

If they did it now, they'd choke on it.

They might very well die.

Their mind turned inward, to the roiling nausea, as though to further it.

Then Eitri stepped back into the circle and dragged them out.

"Behave, Mark, and maybe, when I'm done, I can-"

They were just outside of the circle, between the circle and the cell. They hauled back and hit her and made a break for it. They made it to the door, which opened inward, not out, slammed on their arm, cracking the bone. Again. Faster. They were on the other side now with only their fingers caught. Again. Faster, arm pulled in against their body, other side, through the hall, locked door, trapped-

Again.

Hit her, grab the keys from the desk, door slammed-

Hit her, throw the spear, through the door, down the hall, wrong key-

Again.

They didn't make it to the door.

Again.

Their arm cracked in the door but they'd continued with enough force to be staring from the floor at the rent flesh.

Again.

None of these were the right key.

Again.

They couldn't use wind magic just because they'd snatched the book.

Again, they demanded of themself until they drew back to hit her and their eyes rolled back. Their knees gave. They dropped, breath gone from them, and she loomed over them.

"Regressor… that's it, that's what's up with you, isn't it?" she cackled. "You're rerunning it, aren't you? And you keep losing. Ha, ha! You keep losing! I haven't killed one of your kind in centuries."

She dragged them forward, the rest of the distance into the-

They were back in the cell. They had some time to wipe the sweat from their forehead, to put themself back together. To breathe. To drink. They settled down. The door opened, and she stepped in, shutting it behind herself.

They got to their feet.

Eitri walked to their cell door.

"Come quietly, you know now that I'm far stronger than you."

They were silent, docile, stepping back, letting her take their wrist. They stepped outside of the cage.

One.

Two.

Three.

They counted to themself every time they moved another pace.

Twelve positions.

She lead them into the circle.

That atmospheric silence took them.

They just watched her talk, and talk.

"Hmm? What happened to all of that about my not being able to- oh, you finally understand, I'm sure. Well, no matter!" She stepped out. "Let's get this underw-

Ten.

They looked at themself following behind her.

First chance.

She froze.

"What-" she whispered, looking at them in the circle, just a few steps away, frozen in time, dragged back with themself as their soul had splintered.

Her grin widened.

Too slow.

Eleven.

Two sets of their own eyes watched the bloody explosion as her body spliced with their own and both collapsed to the ground.

"Ok," they said, to themself. "Now, let's get you… Me… out of there."

They touched the edge of the circle and pressed into it.

It was impermeable. Their hand laid against it like a wall.

They sighed at themself, looking in.

"I'm sorry," they said to themself. "I think…"

They looked at the amalgamated corpse, walked back to it and reached for it, grasping it as firmly as was possible, dragging the dripping, meaty mass towards the circle.

It tore, them holding their own arm, and they were glad their double could laugh, a hysterical and ugly sound, since they themself couldn't.

They grabbed more, dragged the mess further until they could shove it against the wall.

Nothing. It stayed fixed outside.

"Here… let me see if I can break it…"

Hours passed, watching glimpses of themself rip through the papers, books, everything. At least whatever magic kept them suspended didn't let their eyes dry out.

They finally stood in their own field of view.

"That…sucks, don't it?" they asked themself. "Well, we've got twelve… time to try nine? If nine doesn't work, there's always waiting a while to see who comes…"

They laughed softly.

"I wonder if I'll remember being ten, if you bring me back?"

They looked around, then gave a nod.

"Do it."

Nine.

The bodies, themself were gone. They had to act fast.

Nine balked, dug their heels in, pulled back hard on Eitri's hand.

"Reg-"

Eleven.

Their other self bolted towards the door.

"ressor-" she smirked, and that other self was cut down, that quickly, a wind blade slicing through them.

Twelve punched her square in the face.

Nine twisted from her grasp.

Their chest felt like it might split apart.

Their vision tinted in uneven streaks with what they realized to be blood. Their upper lip was wet. It hurt so damned badly-

Mark died.

They watched the body suspended in the circle and knew it to be dead, even without its having any visible change.

Eitri had them in an iron grip hardly befitting her frame as twelve immolated near-wholly in flames.

"Oh," she said to Nine, putting it together uncannily fast. "You're cheeky. You're limited to…two living regressions at once? Three, for a moment, it seems! That's very strong!"

They were frozen in place by pure shock, tears streaming down their cheeks.

"Well, you won't be able to go back past when that fragment of your soul died… so, let's give you some time to recover and put yourself back together! One's own death is very upsetting, isn't it? We'll try this again tomorrow. Hmph! Convenient for me, though! You're stuck with my knowing what you are now! How long have you been rerunning those minutes since I came in here, I wonder? But now, you're stuck!"

They fell, the floor hard on their knees, eyes wide.

She glowered down at them.

"You'll be my favorite toy."

–

"That will take some doing…" Leila said, coming back alongside him from her survey around the sanctum.

"Eh… I could get in, but…"

"Getting back out," she said, nodding.

"Anna did say no heroics," he chuckled, voice strained.

"The others…maybe an hour behind us, I'd think."

Volke pulled in breath, crossed his arms.

"They're very clever," Leila said. "I'd take the odds that Eitri hasn't figured out how to get them to cooperate yet… they'd know that they need to buy time."

"They… would, yes" he said.

–

Lyn walked alongside him.

"She'll get no less than she deserves from me, too. Don't try to take it all for yourself."

Karel raised a brow at her.

"You also…"

"They were my friend a long time, Karel," she said. "I don't love them the same way you do, but I do love them."

He grunted an acknowledgement.

"Don't worry. They're too smart to get into this without a plan."

"You… must be right," he said through gritted teeth.

"I definitely am," she said. "You have to believe in them. They always have a plan. They've never failed yet."

He gave her some attempt at a smile.

–

Nine stared at their own bodies, the blood drying on the floor where it had finally stopped its trickling. It was on them, on their skin, their coat, sprayed out.

Twelve's eyes were still open, set in their charred face.

Mark was still suspended in the circle, blood having drained down to the tops of their shoes.

Eleven was in two pieces, lying at odd angles.

The room reeked of their own death and the vomit they'd been unable to keep down as their soul, they'd finally realized, had come back together from the stretched-apart fragments, time catching up to itself.

Eitri hadn't struck them as the sort to let corpses just rot.

No, it was a threat, or reminder.

She was correct in one thing, at least: Nine couldn't go back further than their own spawning. They could feel that point, an open door, but everything before that was closed, locked.

Killing themself was always an option, but to what end? To deny her of her goal?

They wondered, in that suspended animation, if Mark might still be in a viable state to be revived.

If Mark were revived, what of their own soul, which felt very whole?

They scoffed to themself. How could they know what a whole soul felt like?

They had their own memories of one, but was that just a comparison? Whatever they had in that body feeling equivalent to what they had in this? Did a dog with three legs from birth miss the fourth?

They realized they were crying silently again.

–

When Volke came back up from the abandoned sanctum, his face was naught but a cold mask.

"The bitch fled with them," Karel said. "We are-"

"They are dead," he said, clipped, flat.

"I saw them-"

"Three of them are dead."

Karel was silent.

"We should prepare for anything," Volke said.

"I saw them."

"Anything," Volke repeated.

–

Nine followed at the pace they were dragged through.

They would have tried to roll back, to make a break for it, but Volke had told them perfectly clearly that they had tells to someone who knew what they were looking for.

Eitri didn't seem the sort to be gentle if she caught them, again.

Not when three of them lay dead in the sanctum, irreversible. There could always be more.

"I…water, please, or else you're going to just have to carry me," they finally gasped, every step feeling that it would be the one that had them pitching forward into the ground.

"Carry them," Eitri said.

–

They looked up from their knees, mouth dry, shivering in the aftermath.

"Hi… I'm… Nine," they said, voice shaking.

Karel looked over at Volke.

"You're Mark," he said, without thinking, reached for them to pull them up into his arms.

They let it happen, took in that warmth, that solid comfort.

Volke stood, watching.

Their eyes stayed on his.

They could see it – he knew, at least something.

"No…" they said. "Mark died. I'm…number nine. I have their memories, but I'm not them. I…I'm sorry."

Volke stepped in closer.

Their eyes were locked on his.

"You know. You saw. Mark made me to help themself try to get out of that circle… but I'm the one that lived."

Karel drew their face to his, stared into their eyes

"You… what are you? You-"

"Twelve steps between the cell and the circle. I'm… step number nine."

Volke looked out across the field, seemed to hesitate when he caught Anna's attention, then raised his hand to wave.

He drew near, studying their eyes and seemed to see something, make some decision.

"Sort it later. You're Mark while there's still work to do."

He waited, the sound of boots at a dead run coming closer, seemed to demand some confirmation from them.

"Yes?" he finally asked.

Nine nodded. "I can do it."

–

Volke had considered it a temporary kindness that setting things to right had forced them to just keep going, ignore the looming truths for a while. A shame, their not being put off indefinitely.

Karel paced. His gaze snapped up to Volke, sudden, all aggression.

"They are Mark!" he snapped. "It matters little if they believe it or not!"

It felt out of nowhere, nothing said for some time since he'd walked in.

Volke sighed. He looked away, off down the hall. They were like a ghost, lately.

"They're… like Mark. I think they're telling the truth, though. They're not quite Mark."

Karel snarled, "What does it matter?! Like? Are? It is them!"

Volke shrugged, scowled at him. "Practically, it doesn't." He swallowed. "To me, it doesn't. But to them it does, and in some literal sense, perhaps it does. They need time. And arguing it with them won't help anything."

He tracked as Karel's gaze snapped over to the doorway. They stood there, robes still settling into place from walking – good, they'd not been there long – tired, and separately, weary.

"You're right, of course," they said. "I know what I am."

He'd never heard their voice so cold outside of their battle preparations.

"I'm not that person… so I don't expect us to just pick up where we left off. Mark is suspended in time. If someone can break the barrier around them, they may be able to be revived, and then I'm unsure what happens to me… but I may need to be killed to give them their full soul back."

Karel felt his lip curl.

"We are not killing you to bring back the dead when you stand right here!"

Their gaze was so steady as they continued, "I can't regress further than the moment Mark put me into place. The ninth step. I may need those prior points in time if things go poorly in the future. It isn't the first time, though of course here it is much more-"

Volke walked to them, hands falling to their shoulders, studying them, looking them up and down with a thoroughness that he could tell was bordering on unnerving to them.

"…Nine, is it?"

"Yes, Nine," they said.

"If it doesn't work, what then?"

They stared at him.

"I figure out what I'm doing wrong, of course," they said.

He frowned.

"And if you can't? Be reasonable – you aren't the type to throw everything into a…" He clenched his jaw for a moment, swallowed. "What if you can't?"

They looked away. Towards Karel. Then back at him.

"I… who can know? Try to find where I belong, I guess. Try more-"

"You belong here," Karel said, sharp, sudden. "You have your memories. You have your body. You said it yourself. You have your soul. You are Mark."

Volke sighed again, stared at him.

"Karel," he muttered.

They stared at him abruptly.

"Ha. I get it. I had a few seconds right before Mark made twelve, I can go back-"

Volke gripped them hard.

"Mark- Nine."

They inhaled.

"Don't," Volke said.

"I just have to calm the situation down, get Mark to hold on long enough. You're not far away. If Mark stops before regressing to twelve, they stay alive, Eitri will take them-"

Volke didn't realize his grip had tightened until they winced. He let them go, but didn't step back.

"Don't make me see you dead again," he said.

"You won't even-" they started.

"Mark!" he snapped. "I don't give a damn if I remember or not!"

They glared. "I didn't take you for someone who cared more about the principle of the thing-"

"I'm damn well not, but I care about you!"

He crossed his arms tightly, eyes hard on them. He saw Karel move from the corner of his eye. He could deal with it, for now. Perhaps he could make an argument that would hold more sway.

"I'm going out for air. Don't. For me."

He paused in his retreat, turning back for just a moment.

"Please."

–

Karel knew that focus. It was an unstoppable thing, but even so, he had them by the shoulder as Volke stalked off.

"Nine," he said, the word, the name feeling so strange, so wrong on his tongue, sour. He hated it.

"You understand?" they asked, turning eyes wet around the rim but cold as steel towards him. "I can save myself. I can buy myself time."

"You could fail, and die," he said, and they stared at him.

"You- hah, you don't think I can do it?" they asked. "You think I'd… I know the ending! I know how to do it!"

"Get hold of yourself," he growled. "If you feel so certain, you would have already done it!"

Their gaze turned defiant. "I have to account for everything! It takes time!"

"Mark," he said, firm, low.

"What!?" they snapped.

He ventured his hands forward, one one each side of their face.

"Lovely," he said.

Their gaze unfocused a moment.

"Karel…" they murmured.

"Enough of this," he said.

"I…"

They leaned into his touch.

"Do you think the Mark you believe yourself separate from would grudge you this?"

They shook their head, his grip loosening enough to let them do so.

"No," they whispered.

He kissed them.

–

Nine realized that Karel had stirred, was watching their naked back as they sat with their knees to their chest. They ached. They wanted more, and couldn't bring themself to ask for it.

They glanced back at him.

"He's angry with me," they stated.

"He is afraid," Karel said, after a long moment. "You're whole now… In a further attempt, would you be left so?"

They swung their legs over the side of the bed, sat there a moment, letting themself acclimate.

"I'm going to go talk to him," they said. "I can get him to understand."

"How will you do it?" Karel asked, sliding to sit, lazily.

"By making the right argument, of course," they said, looking back at him.

"Pfeh… against his heart?"

"I've won against worse."

They stood, and he grabbed their wrist.

"You…"

"I won't," they said.

He released them.

"I won't cross that line," they said, more to themself.

–

The balcony was empty as Nine hauled themself up onto the stone edge, dangled their legs over. The night breeze swayed the trailing edge of their silken nightrobe.

They had hoped.

The wall was cool against them as they scooted to where the ledge met it, leaned into it.

–

Nine woke to being caught as they listed backwards.

"Nine," Volke said, holding them back by the shoulder.

"There you are," they said, drowsy, turning to catch his face with a sliver of dawn falling across it.

"And a good thing," he said, frowned.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep, really," they said.

He was quiet.

"You haven't done it yet," he said after a long moment – long enough that they had flinched away from his gaze, the apparent lack of sleep not just in his eyes but in the deeper shadows caught by the light on his jaw, chin, the dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm… not going to," they said.

"Is that for good?" he asked, that weariness showing plainly. "Or will I be back there, walk into seeing-"

They put it aside, that impulse to tell him how many of his deaths they'd seen. Did it matter? Did they want to feel their own death, that many more times? Did they want to see that relief break over him again, knowing what had come before it?

"…Yes, Volke. For good. I'm going to… stay this. Whatever this is."

He stayed standing, watching them, quiet.

"Really," they said, after long enough.

He used that hold he already had on them to pull them into an embrace that nearly dragged them off the ledge with how tightly he held them.

"Ngk- Volke-" they gasped.

Head buried in their neck, he didn't speak. Just breathed, heavy, with a faint shudder that went through him at one moment.

When he raised his head again, met their eyes, he exhaled softly.

"You can stand not knowing if it's possible?"

"I can stand it," they said. "The numbers, any other way…"

Their vision grew misty, and they blinked at it.

They continued, "It doesn't matter if they add up or not, another way. Here… they do. We do."

He swallowed. His jaw seemed to work as though he were going to say something, but he waited.

"You do want this…? A copy? Maybe not even whole?"

"I do," he said.

"So… have me," Mark said, kissed him.

–

They knelt in the sanctum, their own body still hung there in a spell that kept going even after Eitri had departed.

The others had been removed.

Burn them, they'd said. They weren't burying the other steps.

Henry crossed his arms, looking around through slit eyes and with a wide grin.

"Oohh, this kind of magic! How special! I can have this apart lickety split! Hah! Let's get you out of there!"

It felt somehow important to watch as he circled the field, making note of every marking on the ground, trailing his hand along that impermeable air like it was a fence and he had a stick to rattle along the bars.

"Going to take some souvenirs from yourself?" he asked, conversational as he made notes.

"Um… shit… I don't know… the coat is…"

Soaked in the blood from their ears, nose, eyes, mouth, and a dark stain they suddenly realized on the chest.

When a soul left a body, was that how it went?

"No. I don't think so," they finally said.

"Mind if I do?" he chirped.

They shrugged. "Go ham," they said. "Just no hexing me, or whatever."

"Hehe," he giggled, then with a decisive move, he clapped his hands against the barrier.

Deep violet cracks, painful to keep their eyes on, formed in the surface under his palms.

"Oh, it's big magic! Ehehe, open up!"

Those cracks, he fit his slim fingers into and seemed to tear into, like peeling a fruit. Skinning an- no, it was far too vulgar for that.

And then suddenly, it dropped, shattered apart into nothing.

Their body fell like a sack, a wet and soft sound.

They thought they saw their own eyes meet them, just before impact.

Henry approached the body, pressed his fingers to their throat, where a pulse should be.

"Oh, yes, that's dead! Dead-dead! Quite deceased! You've been dead a while, just held up like a puppet! Cold! Worm food!"

He grabbed the wrist, lifted and dropped it with a thump.

There was something – relief, an ending – in them at his words.

"Good," they simply said, then rising to their feet. They stood over themself, looked down at Mark, at those eyes that could give them no answer, no guidance. "Then, let's give it to them."

Chapter 2: tell me the name of god

Summary:

It was never going to be that easy - die, and keep going, not yourself. There's the human aspect of it too. Mark and Volke and Karel talk it out. Repeatedly.

Notes:

"well, we did the body horror, let's do the horror of interpersonal communication"

the real horror is you'd never know the difference

you get one (1) smut

Mark knew well enough it wasn't that simple as going until they were dizzy with each other, until they'd had him part their robe and fuck them right there on that ledge.

That was a confirmation something was still there, but Volke's eyes had a guarded light when he'd raised from his knees, before they'd tucked their head against him as he'd held them.

It made them sick to the very depths of their being.

More so than seeing their own body twisted and torn, more so than burying themself – the original that had somehow felt wrong to burn like they'd burned the other two who could have been them.

And then of course there was Karel, but Volke had said it himself – Karel was straightforward.

What lingered in their mind for Karel was a question of what he would do to keep this from ever happening again. It was a terrifying question, but not a complicated one. He'd be more protective, more suspicious, and they could predict it easing with time and things settling back into place.

Volke was less familiar territory.

They leaned into him. His arm crept around them. He bowed his head into the side of theirs, breath brushing their jaw.

"What's happening? With us?" they asked, because at the least, after everything he'd put up with, he deserved something other than their avoidance of it.

He didn't lift his head, but his grip did tighten for just a moment, an acknowledgement that he'd heard them.

"Mark," he started, then paused so long they thought he might just leave it there. "A lot has happened," he finally said. "Working on it. Same as you are."

"Do you…think I did the wrong thing?" they asked, after some time. "Is that part of it?"

"You know I'm not the person for if something is right or wrong… tell me what you're really asking."

They turned to meet his eyes. "Did I do wrong by you?"

There was more color in his cheeks. He glanced away.

"No," he said.

They waited, eyes on him, on how pointedly he looked away, off into the distance, at some fixed point they couldn't place.

"You were going to."

They didn't mean to tense, but knew he felt it.

"What is it? What's the difference? Restarting a battle, preventing a death-"

His jaw clenched, and they stopped talking.

"It's you. I know you've seen my death, everyone here, right?"

They swallowed. "Yes."

"Nobody made you do it. You decided to."

"I… when I do it, so does everyone else… there's plenty of deaths you don't remember. So, are you saying-"

"Dammit, no," Volke snapped. "It's you. You do whatever you have to. Any battle, whatever, I've seen these people die, and I don't know it, remember it. But you! You don't get to make me see you dead again! Not just so you're in a body that's, what, a few minutes, hours prior?"

They stared. "You say it like I wanted to do it just to be younger! It was to protect us! All of us! So if this all gets so fucked up, some way, I could go back far enough-"

"Stop trying to be a damned god!"

They saw some realization on his face, some shock. Maybe that he hadn't meant to yell, or maybe it was that they felt their eyes burn with a sudden spring of tears welling up.

"I'm not- I'm not a god, but- but how fucked up would it be to have this power and not use it?! To not do everything I can to keep the people I love alive?!" they bit back, voice sharp despite how it shook. "If I'd gotten that body back-"

"Mark! If!"

"I wouldn't have given up! I gave up for this! I gave up for you!"

They bit their tongue as his eyes narrowed.

-Stop trying to be a damn-!"

They saw some realization on his face, some shock.

"Mark?!"

He sat, rigid, staring hard at them.

"Volke, no- I'm sorry- I- I didn't- I-"

He swung his legs back over the ledge, and when they reached for him, they caught air.

"Wait- oh, god, please wait-"

When they stepped through the doorway after him, into the darkness of the old storage room, he was thoroughly gone.

It worked out that there was nobody there to see how they dropped down onto a sheet-covered chair and sobbed.

–

They realized they'd missed the meeting when Sharena rapped gently at their room door.

They didn't even know what time it was until then, and they hauled themself out of bed, pushing their hair back, pulling on a dressing robe, feeling truly foul in presence.

"Oh- damn, hi, I'm sorry," they said quickly. "Yes, I know what time it is-" now, "-yes, I'm sorry for missing-"

"Ah, Mark, it's fine!" she said quickly. "I just came by because I figured you probably weren't feeling well, after everything? I brought you something to eat?"

And she did have a circular tray balanced on one arm – cake. Oh, damn her, cake. Flakes of salt on the icing. The sweet tangy scent of maple.

Mark's shoulders dropped.

"I… thanks," they said, stepped back. "I… can I…"

"Of course, Mark! Anything at all you need!"

She stepped in and got to laying out a place setting.

They felt loathsome. They considered throwing themself out the window.

And then she was sat, and they were sat.

"Can I… tell you something that I should have told someone…else? A long time ago? And…maybe if you don't… don't freak out, then maybe we…"

She laid a hand on their forearm.

"…Figure out how to tell Anna… and your brother… and…then I tell you what I did? And…"

She was so earnest in how she said yes that they wanted to drink poison.

So, they told her.

She was a good listener. They'd have preferred if she'd called them a monster and been done with it.

"Well," she finally said. "We'll have to of course be very careful, for your safety – naturally!"

She pursed her lips, seemed to have a question waiting.

"… I… tried. I know you want to ask, about your father," they said.

Her eyes were wet as she shook her head.

"Mark, please, I wasn't going to ask that. With what you've told me, I know. And that wouldn't be fair! You're fighting every day for us, you-"

Her eyes fell to the notebook they'd set down on the table.

"You're losing your memories to do it!"

They exhaled. They didn't like to think about that part, forgot it as often as they could.

"I wanted to ask if it's even fair to ask you to keep doing it!"

Mark gave her a weak smile. "It's like asking a bird to stay grounded. Even if it… it's part of who… what I am. Better to fall from the sky than never touch it again."

She nodded, blinked tears from her eyes, grabbed for a napkin and dabbed at them.

"This feels like a terrible time for you to be alone," she said.

"It… isn't… great," they admitted.

It had felt wrong to hold Karel back from deployment, and then…

"You said there was something else?" she asked.

They sighed. It felt like too cruel of a truth to rest with her, but they'd seen the mettle of her. Someday, they'd stop thinking of her as so young. Today was as good of a day to try as any.

"So… that power… I don't use it except when it's life or death. It's the rule I've always kept."

She nodded, but her brows knit in concern.

"That's… that's my word, I've never before used it outside of life and death. With Eitri, that was the first time. I didn't die, in all of those attempts, but I also… well, it was obviously different, since I can't really reverse, um… my own-"

"Of course! You had to protect yourself!" she said, emphatically.

"But that's…. not-"

They swallowed, took a bracing breath.

"I have one spot I'm sure I could go back to and save my…self. Do it better."

Their gaze darted away, then they forced it back to her.

"Still not it- that's still not it. I'm not going to. Volke… didn't want me to. So, I won't. But we were arguing about it, some, and I said something… cruel to him. And I…undid it. And not only did I do it… he caught that I'd undone it."

They realized they'd been sitting, save for their eyes, perfectly still, nails digging into their palms, cake half-eaten and forgotten.

"And… I don't know how to come back from that."

Her eyes were big, worried, such a clear and honest display of emotion. Mark considered themself by contrast to be something rotten.

"Have you…been able to talk to him?" Sharena asked, reaching for their hand.

They didn't have the heart to withhold it from her.

"No, he… I don't even know where he-"

Their shoulders fell.

"I… know how to find him."

"You…" Sharena started, seemed at a loss for a moment, and then something snapped into place. "Mark, you know it was wrong, you're not going to do it again, so, isn't it worth it to try?"

They couldn't just shrug it off, saccharine as it felt to them. They could only nod.

"I… yeah, it's worth it, I just…"

"Then, I'm rooting for you! I believe in you!"

They blinked, felt how their eyes watered.

"Sharena…" they started.

She squeezed their hand.

"It's like we're two different genres of books," they laughed, softly. "But maybe…"

The smile wasn't something they could hide as it forced its way to their lips.

They said, ruefully, "Well… I guess I should get myself put together. I'm not walking into a tavern looking this bad…"

Sharena smiled, inclined her head.

"Thank you, but, we're not capping this off with a makeover montage."

–

Mark felt uncomfortably made over.

It felt, as they stepped into the lower lighting, like it might be manipulation.

Well, he was grown enough to overlook the way their tits sat a bit higher rather than give into some wiles and charms.

Sharena really was her own genre.

They shouldn't have been as scared as they were to walk up to the bar and once they had the attention of the barkeep, to say those words. They swallowed.

"I…need a…" gods, but they felt stupid. They pleaded with some force in the universe that this actually did something. "Fireman."

She gave them an appraising look.

"Gotcha," she said, and was gone, parting a curtain and walking through into the back.

Mark stood, leaned on the bar, eyes pinned to said swaying curtain.

They realized they were staring with such intensity bare seconds before she came back.

"Go on," she said, winked.

They weren't going to tell her that it wasn't that kind of meeting. Perhaps if she thought it was, it'd afford them more privacy.

They straightened, steeled themself, and walked through.

Nobody was there, but the door leading out was ajar.

Out, to where? Not outside, it was too dim. They pushed it open and stepped through, finding themself in a little, what, break area? A small table, a few chairs, and they missed all other details in favor of him.

Volke watched them in his full battle garb, mask and all.

They wanted to turn tail and run.

They instead shut the door behind themself. The full weariness they'd been avoiding hit them at once.

The chair was already pulled out, so they settled down into it, across from him.

"You called?" he asked.

"You were waiting?" they countered, but then raised their hands, palms up. "Sorry- sorry, that's not what I-"

"You aren't going to just reverse it?"

They clenched their teeth together tightly to hold back their most impulsive response as they wrote the right one on the back of their tongue.

"No, Volke. I'm not. I'm not going to, and I won't again."

His eyes were so cold. They felt nauseous.

"I… called for you to ask for another chance, with a condition that I hope…helps," they said.

They hated the way their eyes were already watering.

"Go on," he said.

"Another chance, but if I ever do it again - outside of life and death – then you…"

"No deal," he said, cutting them off. "I'm not killing you."

Their breath caught.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

"I'll just leave," he said. "You'll live with that." He then sighed, "or, you won't, you could just…"

They shook their head.

"No-" they started. "No, I wouldn't!"

He was quiet a moment.

"No. You wouldn't," he said.

His gaze fell, and his hands folded in front of him, resting on the table.

"You really won't do it again," he muttered, not looking at them, almost as though to himself.

"No. I won't," they said.

One hand raked back through his hair, and then pulled down the mask as he finally looked up.

"Look at you," he said. "You're…" He chuckled, grimly. "Pathetic, aren't you? You'd come back to me like this… with your pride. You must hate it."

Their face was hot with shame, holding his gaze by sheer force of will.

"I do," they said.

He smirked.

"You'd drag yourself in here….for me."

They forced themself to nod.

"Here's my condition, then. You tell me what you undid."

"I… ok," they said.

Their nails dug into their palms, then they gripped at their own thighs so they wouldn't break the skin.

"Ok," they said, again.

He sat back, arms crossed.

"I'd said… that no, I wasn't a god, or trying to be, but that it'd be a waste not to, and that if I'd just gotten my body back, and then you emphasized the 'if,' and I said… I said if I'd done it, I would have gotten it, I wouldn't have given up, but…"

They bit their lip, looked at him, knowing the fear showed plainly on their face.

"That I gave up for you."

He breathed.

"I… didn't mean it like that, that… that I'm holding you responsible- I couldn't stand that I'd said it like that to you."

His lips parted as though to speak, then closed once more. He leaned forward, rested his forearms back on the table, glanced away and finally back at them.

"I see," he finally said. "But, really. Is what I want enough to give up for?"

They nodded.

"You're enough."

He sighed, a grim smile on his lips.

"Then… that's enough."

Another sigh.

"I've been waiting to forget and then you walk out to the balcony and we have an entirely different conversation…"

They forced themself still, to not immediately leap to their own defense.

"I'd already decided if you actually came, that I'd hear you out."

They nodded, a minute gesture.

"I… I really- I really am sorry."

He rolled his eyes. "You're here. Of course you are."

"I… it's… I understand, though, if… if you don't want me-"

"I want you," he said, too quickly, too easily, enough that they could see the surprise in his own expression as his cheeks tinted red.

"Or if things are just different?" they ventured.

"Worry about that later…" he said. "You…" he chuckled, "said you needed a fireman. What services?"

The shift was jarring to them. Their brows raised.

"Volke… are you-"

"Mark… I'm tired of being angry with you. And damn you, you've done a number on yourself with this, that I've been having to deal with, this whole time," he said, gesturing to them, the whole of them. "We can have out the rest of this later."

He leaned across the table to have them by the chin, to stare into their eyes, lust obvious in his own.

"You can tell the princess that her plan worked just fine."

Mark nodded, almost dumbly.

"I want to be… had…" they said, looking up hopefully at him.

He kissed them, all but laying atop the table to do so.

"Come here," he said, pulling back, beckoning them to follow.

The thought occurred they could crawl over the table to him, but instead, they stood, quickly enough that their chair tipped back. They didn't bother to right it as they circled to him.

He pulled them in against himself, leaning back into the wall, thigh pressed between theirs.

"Did she put you in some damn stays-" he asked, hands starting at their waist, feeling them up.

"She was unstoppable-" Mark gasped as his lips pressed straight to that sweet spot under their jaw.

"I'm leaving you in them for how your tits look…"

But he was working their pants open, pulling them down until stopped by his own leg.

"And you? You're wearing far too much."

Volke let his teeth sink in. They groaned, hands clenching in his lapels.

"So, change that," he said.

Of course he had to be wearing far, far more clothes.

They slipped the first belt with fumbling fingers, and tilted their head to try for his mouth. He let them, kissing them deeply, pulling them flush against himself.

It interrupted their work with the belts, had them instead untying his scarf and then working at the fastenings to his coat. His undershirt, much thinner, gave them something to touch through, let them feel the planes of his chest, as he moaned into the kiss.

"I'll help," he said, and had their positions reversed, slipping buckles, letting belts, bracers, finally, his coat drop to the floor.

They had their arms around his neck to keep up with how ravenously he kissed them.

"Fuck- Volke," they gasped. "If this is how we make up-"

"No," he growled, hands fitting under the hem of their shirt and yanking it up, over their head. "We're not fighting more- oh, this?"

He palmed at the white linen that supported their breasts.

"You're keeping this…" he said, dropping his head, nuzzling at the swell of them, his stubble scratching their skin in such a familiar, satisfying way.

"It's not mine-"

"I'm getting you one."

"I'm not used to-"

"Special occasions," he insisted.

"Yes, fine, special occasions-"

He shucked their pants down, leaving it to them to toe off their boots. His own, he shoved down just enough, then bringing his hands under their ass.

"C'mere," he growled, lifting as their grip tightened.

"Volke-" they gasped as he was suddenly thrusting into them, their legs instinctively winding around his hips. "Nnh- I- oh- I missed you-"

"It's barely been a week."

"I still missed you," they cried.

"Heh… Same."

He snapped his hips into them with such effort as to have their head thrown back, gasping at it.

They regained themself, purposefully, to kiss him, tongue seeking his, trying to beckon him into something deeper, filthier, and he obliged so easily.

He moaned into their mouth, his movements growing erratic, almost frantic until he stilled.

"Fuck, Mark," he gasped. "That's too fast…"

His breath hissed as he seemed to fight himself.

"Mm- down, suck me off, eh? I accept your apology… still want you on your knees for me."

They unbound their legs as he tilted his hips to slip out, settled them back to standing. They slid to their knees, kissed against his cock, slick with them, sweet.

He moaned as they took him into their mouth, down their throat. One hand braced him up against the wall, the other cupped the back of their head, urging their lips down to the base.

"Ngk- let me fuck you-" he breathed, and his fingers clenched in their hair, holding them still as he thrust into their mouth.

They felt themself choke just as he pulled back, as his hand fell to his cock and he gave himself a cursory last few strokes.

They tilted their head back in anticipation, knowing exactly what he wanted as he spilled on their throat, chest, tits.

His eyes were so focused on those pearly droplets clinging to their skin as he pulled them to their feet.

"Fuck, Volke, that…"

"Hmm? Too much?" he asked, grinning, some twinge of guilt in it.

"No- um …hot…" they muttered. "Could stand to do that more…"

He caught a dribble that was dangerously close to the borrowed fabric, then licked it from his own thumb.

"Eheh, I'll remember that."

He smeared up more with two fingers, and before they could ask what he was doing, he'd dropped his hand, shoved those fingers inside of them, that grin on his lips turning filthy.

"Had to be sure you were wet enough," he teased.

"With you?!"

They went weak at how he curled his touch inside of them.

"Eh, hang on," he said, slipped his other arm under theirs, around them.

They steadied themself, pressed forward to his lips, and he'd never pulled back before the way he did with a chuckle.

"Sounds," he said. "I think I deserve it, since I got made to forgot some."

They wanted to be cross, but their protests were cut off by the cry he drew out.

"Volke!" they cried. "Please, I'm close-"

"Fast," he chuckled, but surely he could feel it too, with how they felt so tight around his fingers. "Come on," he said, quickening his touch. "You know how to ask me."

Their skin rushed hot, they sucked in breath.

"Fuck- fireman- please-"

He kissed them, hard, fingers driving into where they ached for him until they lost all sense, just sagged in his arms, barely even able to kiss back.

When he pulled his fingers from them, they took in breath with a soft hiss.

"Ah- I… can I still say I… love you?"

He kissed them once more.

"Unfortunate, if you couldn't, since I would."

He kept them close in against himself. "Mark… I do love you." He chuckled, a grim sound. "It's something to come to terms with…having someone reverse time over a bad conversation. You understand?"

"Yes," they admitted. "Yes. I was horrified, at myself, I…"

"I know, lover," he said.

He kissed them again.

"But I missed you," he said. "You made me wait."

They felt a squirm of discomfort in their chest.

"I wanted you to come back…"

"Eh, I know you did. I don't crawl back, though."

"Please, come home?" they asked. "I'll crawl to you."

"Yes, I'll come back with you." He laughed softly. "Crawl into bed with me."

–

"Eh… they buried it," Volke said. "That's closure, for them."

Karel sighed, looked down the drop.

"You missed the whole thing where they tried to rerun an argument," he said.

Karel's gaze snapped to him, away from estimating the fall.

"They what?" he asked.

Volke shrugged. "It's done with."

Karel frowned, turned.

"I'm going to-"

Volke caught him by the shoulder. "Don't worry your pretty head about it. They panicked… something lingering from that affair with Eitri… They thought I'd bloody left them over it. They won't do it again any more than touch a hot stove."

"You… I shouldn't have left," he said. "Not yet."

"Eh, obviously. Arrange the order needing you around-"

"Around Mark needing me," he said. "They are my priority."

Volke patted that shoulder, loosing his grip. "I didn't really leave. I had an eye on them."

Karel bristled, but then seemed to discard the thought.

"Anyway, they were here before either of us. We don't need to nanny them, eh?"

Karel seemed to deflate.

"What, then?" he asked.

"Love them, I presume," Volke said. "Fight these damned conflicts. Keep them in one piece. Keep each other sane."

Karel's lip curled, and Volke raised a brow.

"You're in some kind of way," he said.

Karel frowned. "I'd hear it from them, not only you."

His hands raised, and he then shooed Karel off. "Yes, yes, pick at the scab. Watch the bleeding for yourself."

"I can talk to my own lover," Karel said.

"Which is why you asked me what you missed, eh?"

"Pft. With you, was the intent. Damned gossip."

Volke found himself suddenly so, so very tired.

"Me? I slept in a tavern room a few nights licking my wounds and waiting to forget all about it before being wooed home and back into bed again."

Karel drew near, wordless. He kissed him.

–

Karel found them sleeping, slid into bed alongside them, arms creeping around them, and they gravitated into it.

It was the middle of the afternoon.

They murmured his name, and he didn't know if it was awareness or reflex. He breathed deep of them, of the sweet soap they used when they expected to be in the castle a while.

They did stir, turned in his arms to face him, eyes wide open.

"You're home," they said, snuggled into him.

"Um… shit. Before you even ask," they then said, "yeah. Volke and I did… I don't know… Things were tense a while. And it's because I did something… foolish. Impulsive."

"I did hear so much," he said, rolled his eyes. "You'll not do such a thing to me."

They shook their head quickly.

"Say it."

"Yes, I won't," they said, quickly.

He lay with his head at an odd angle, not bothering to rightly adjust the pillow for himself.

"And you?" he asked.

They sighed. "Still getting to me. I died."

He was quiet, just watching them in that uncanny way.

"I keep thinking about it and it feels so unfair. I'm all torn up about it… Karel, I've seen… you've died. And you're not sleeping in the middle of the day…"

"I have no memory of dying," he said.

"I wish I didn't," they said, bitterly.

"You do, so… what then?" he asked.

There was some part of him that felt how awkward the situation and that bristled at the idea that Volke- no, he wouldn't approach that. He had his own means.

"Like you said, I guess. Cope," they said, looked away, up at the ceiling.

"Cope… and, Mark…"

Their gaze slid to him, brow raised.

"Pft… nothing," he said. "Nothing that will help you."

"What?" they asked.

He shifted to lay on his back.

"That was careless…" he said.

"What was?"

He felt his eyes narrow, his gaze grow pointed.

"Come on, you can't 'you know what you did' me-"

"To him? Truly? Get hold of yourself."

"It wasn't on purpose," they said, and he saw it, that defensiveness.

"It is a power you must be in full control of," he said.

"I- I usually am!"

They stared at him as though betrayed, some anguish in their eyes.

"You think…. you think I don't understand? How bad that was? It was enough I finally told Sharena, then Anna what I can do…and Volke is going to tell them… my tells. And if he hasn't told you…"

Karel just lay, watching them.

"You know, I was going to ask him kill me if I ever did it again."

Something crackled behind his eyes, a searing hot feeling, starting to roil.

"I'd kill him before he could," were the only words he managed.

"I- Karel, I mean- look, if I ever start just using it casually, then… I think I'm too far gone."

"You wouldn't. You said as much."

"It didn't stop me," they said.

"My care for you didn't stop my putting a blade through you, when it was needed."

"It wasn't needed, to skip back those few seconds. I calculated…the other option, when you…"

"Mark… tell me the other option."

They frowned. "I don't want to."

His gaze was heavy on them, and he could see how they shifted, how they rolled it around in their head, fidgeted the set of their jaw and how their arms wrapped around themself.

"You died," they finally said.

"I supposed as much," he said.

He knew from the minute way their eyes widened they hadn't expected it, let himself smirk.

"Mark, I am no fool."

They curled in against him.

"I'd rather feel myself die… so many more times than-"

They stopped speaking, frowned.

"Then you understand," he said.

"Yes…"

They rose to their elbows, leaned in, a shyness in their movements.

"Karel…" they said, softly.

"Lovely," he answered.

"I'm awful," they said.

"Hush," he said.

He had them by the jaw, pulled them past that remaining empty air. Awful or not, they lay against him, kissed him.

Chapter 3: your heart burning

Summary:

Mark can only go so far back. Karel dreams about it, and Volke certainly helps in some kind of way (violently).

Notes:

1/3 dream sequences that tie this all up, I think

cw for rough sex, the men being bitchy to each other, dreams of death

He stared at the blood dripping from the wound. It should not be flowing so strongly, not from where he'd struck them. It should be sluggish, not a steady trickle as they stared at him with shocked-wide eyes.

They choked. Their foe collapsed, sliding off the blade. Blood dripped from their mouth, sliding down their chin, hitting the collar of their robe, dark, too dark, too fresh, rich.

"Ah…" they gasped. "Karel?"

He wrenched the blade straight back, fingers coated thickly in the salve, pressed it into the wound that now gushed.

"Mark… breathe," he said as they stumbled, clinging onto him.

"What-"

It wasn't their voice. No, it was their old voice. Higher. Afraid. That same voice he'd heard in the stone house.

The voice they'd used back then.

"I- I think I'm dying?" they laughed softly, voice thick with fluid.

"Turn back time. Do it now!" he demanded.

"Wha- I can't… go that far… that far back…"

They went weak, and he was left standing, holding them, dead weight in his arms as he gasped for air that seemed to have vanished.

He came to frozen stiff, it seemed, body momentarily unwilling to move.

There was weight on him. Their-

No. They didn't smell like stale smoke.

The glint in those eyes, peering at him.

"Mm… some kind of dream…?" Volke asked.

He wanted to turn away, to tell the man to mind his own dreams.

"Who died?" he pressed.

"Mark," he said. "At my hands."

Volke made some low noise, lay alongside him.

"I thought we were through with Hel…" he said

"Death has always followed me," Karel said.

"New one, though?"

"The manner…"

Volke seemed on the verge of pressing him, but stayed silent. Karel sighed.

"I do not need some comfort over it. It's a reminder, nothing more. Especially since their abilities are now finite."

"They always were," Volke said, carefully.

"Not in this way… though it matters less with time… and skill."

"They're gaining that quickly," Volke said. "You've done well yourself lately…"

Karel grunted a low acknowledgement. "The new sword… It suits my hand…"

Volke took his sword hand, thumbed over the knuckles. Karel watched, silent, and he couldn't see every white line in the skin, but he knew them all, knew Volke could feel them were he to be so attentive to detail.

He kissed those knuckles, and Karel felt tongue, made a low noise in his throat. He was always doing something like this. It was a distraction, regardless.

Distraction from what? Would he truly let the image slip from his mind so easily?

He withdrew his hand.

"Oh," Volke said, looked him in the eye. "Time to marinate in it?"

"What I focus on isn't your concern," he said.

Volke groaned. "You love to watch it bleed."

Karel wiped the damp residue of saliva from his hand.

"I'm going out," he said.

Volke's eyes stayed on him as he started to sit up.

"Are you, now…?" he asked.

He knew it, that same testing Mark did. The common points between them added up. He scowled.

"You… tch… You want to come along… I may as well stay here, you'll tail me. Bloody busybody."

"You understand me so well," Volke said.

"I was not complimenting you," Karel said, knowing fully well he was bristling and doing nothing to stop it.

"Eheh…" Volke chuckled, smirking. "I know."

He reached for the man, who let himself be caught, his jaw settling so perfectly in Karel's hand, the prickle of scruff rough against his palm.

"You should spar with me," Volke said, dangerously.

"You… with your knives?" Karel asked.

"I can hold a sword…"

"Not so well…"

Volke's smirk widened, eyes narrowing. "Eh? You haven't seen me do it."

"Then I shall see you. Come," he said, rising, pulling on clothes.

–

The slivered moon made for a dark practice field, so he'd been so generous as to opt for one of the empty upper areas of the wall, torchlit, that desolation broken only by occasional patrolling guards.

Those guards knew well enough to let them be.

The mask was excessive, as though it provided some tactical advantage when Karel knew perfectly well who he was dealing with.

And yet, the light way Volke held a blade, the easy balance he found in it and the way he testily swung it through a few arcs in air, finding its weight, perhaps he did not.

"Live steel… you're such a daring one," Volke said, standing at the ready. "Mark would like to see this – shame…"

"They would not," Karel said.

Something shifted in Volke's expression, and Karel let his lips pull into a small smile. Whatever he'd thought he'd invited Karel to, he was reevaluating.

"Is this how it ends, then?" Volke asked. "You have a nightmare, and I'm a casualty of it?"

"No…" Karel said. "They would see something more…artful. This will not be."

Volke barked a laugh, a sudden and shocked sound. "Everything sounds so damned grievous with you."

"Come," Karel said, not having yet drawn his blade.

"Heh… from plain sight?"

"Is it too disadvantag-"

Karel's blade flashed out, slid against Volke's to deflect, glance it aside, pivot out of being so close.

A heat rushed through him, excited fire catching as though his insides were the plains in a drought.

Volke pressed in – sword in hand, seeking a far closer combat that Karel wanted – and he was fast.

His ears rang with the slip of steel, of blades catching and parried aside. There was some grace to it, and Volke kept him backing up.

"You handle it…" Karel hissed, "like you hold a different weapon."

"Yes," Volke chuckled, breath coming quickly. "You sword types never follow…"

Karel could so easily have seen a rapier or other thrusting weapon in his hand rather than the broader steel. He wasn't fighting to cut, but to impale.

"I follow," Karel growled, moved back close, driving forward to attempt for a grab on his wrist.

It forced Volke back, finally, stepping out of reach.

"Oh, like that?" he chuckled. "Don't mind if I do."

"You were being clean," Karel scoffed.

"I was being decent, lover," he said, a teasing note on the word.

Volke feinted, twisted aside at the last moment, and had his boot slammed into the side of Karel's shin. The steel was unforgiving, sent shocks through his nerves, and he grunted, stumbling. He lashed out with his blade to counter the momentum that would have taken him back nearly to the ground.

Volke had him by the forearm.

"This is indecent," he said, that sword point pricking against his throat.

Karel stared, gaze pinned, wide, to Volke's. His breath came fast, hard.

"Kill me, as I'm little use now," Karel hissed. "If even you can best me."

"Even I? You arrogant…"

Volke sheathed his sword, pulled down his mask and used that grip to drag Karel into a kiss that he froze against.

He shoved back, glared at Volke, his own sword clinking as the guard contacted its scabbard.

"Sore loser…" Volke said, crossed his arms. "Speak with me when you'd like to be reasonable, lover."

Karel grabbed for him as he began to turn away.

His hand found purchase he hadn't expected, and a knife to his throat as Volke twisted in his grip to meet him.

"Careful. What did I say about reasonable..."

He felt a snarl in his throat, hackles up and yet some dread in himself.

He let out a deflating breath. Volke hadn't pulled away, and the bob of his throat as he swallowed had him severely aware of the knife.

"You've bested me. What else is there?" he asked.

"There's love," Volke said, a dangerous glint in his eye. "There's your never having fought me before…"

"Do you hold back so in all battles out there?" Karel growled.

"I use what forms I need. You… are special."

"Special…" Karel breathed.

"You're very strong… I can't use that technique long. The sword is balanced badly for it, of course… but it sets my opponent off balance so badly I never need to."

"You cheat," Karel said.

The offense of it had him bristling.

"I finish my work," Volke countered. "Whatever it takes."

That same cold resolve he'd seen in…

"Eh-"

Karel had him by the collar, lips smashed together, heedless of the nick opened on his neck, the blade too sluggish in withdraw.

Volke kissed him, hard, matching his viciousness as the weapon disappeared to places unknown.

He was dragged in close, then backed up, that same path Volke had been driving him towards in their earlier maneuvers.

"Is this reasonable," Karel snapped.

"No impalement… Reasonable enough," Volke answered.

They'd slipped into the dark, a blind corner, and so little moon. Smooth stonework met Karel's back.

"Good. I'll best you other ways," he said, grasped Volke by the back of the neck, and the way he seemed to go weak a moment had Karel peering at him.

"What?" Volke asked.

"You…"

Karel scruffed the shorter hairs there between his fingers.

"Fuck," Volke groaned. "Yes, damn you, there."

He used that hold as he slipped out of Volke's arms, had him pushed against the wall.

"Of course you would," he muttered. "Another time, I'll give you a straight fight, and you'll have me easily."

Cheek laid against the stone, his one visible eye seemed to flirt an invitation back over his shoulder, despite the way he spoke.

Karel had his other hand on his hip, then slid to the closure of his pants, picking the lacings open. Volke pressed back into him.

"Does it fix your pride?" he asked.

Karel grunted as he slid the pants down just enough, then attended to his own.

"Would you answer such a question? For free?"

Volke's eyes narrowed.

"Bitchy…" he muttered. "For you, I would."

Karel fit spit-slicked fingers to that pucker, slid two in at once, ignoring the faint twitch in Volke's mouth.

"It does," Karel said.

"Then fuck the daylights out of me," Volke chuckled.

He felt the way he tensed as his fingers found that spot inside, and drove into it.

"About this… Unless I call for you, fireman," Karel growled, "you're my lover. That is all."

Volke grunted some acknowledgement, but his eyes held defiance.

"You've never- ngk… minded before. With Mark- mm- other-"

Karel shoved a third finger in.

Volke sighed, lids slipping closed a moment as his jaw hung slack in some quiet pleasure.

"Don't be difficult. I tell you leave it…"

"Ha- that... Yes, fine. You understand the difficulty-"

"Yes," Karel said, terse. "I'm not Mark."

He pulled his fingers back, shoved his cock, head slick with pre, in.

It was a rough fit and Volke's breath hissed.

"Damn-" he grunted.

"Do you need something sweeter?" Karel scoffed.

Volke's fingers curled against the stone. He reached back, grabbed Karel's hip, dragged him closer until they were flush together.

"No," he groaned. "Do whatever you do."

Each thrust was raw against his skin, and Karel pulled back, not fully out. He spit into the space between them, smearing it against his cock with his fingertips.

He slammed back in.

Volke gasped, eyes popping open.

Karel wound his arms around that taut body, all but lay against his back, and used his chin to nudge the collar down. He pressed his lips to that spot bared between the top of his mask, hanging slack around his neck, and his hairline.

Volke clenched around him, breath coming hard in a sigh.

Karel grasped at the man's cock, stroking.

"Ha… don't even need-"

His words were lost as his fingers curled tighter, his eyes rolled back.

His release spattered against the stone.

Karel gripped him by the hips, even as Volke's teeth clenched at what was certainly far too stimulating immediately after orgasm.

"Not long," Karel grunted, his movements hard, short, tight thrusts.

And it wasn't, before he was pressed flush against him, feeling that throb of ecstasy.

He bit down on that spot in the midst of it, and Volke snarled under him, gasping, and as Karel drew back, he saw the unfocused gaze.

He pulled out, tucked himself back in with martial efficiency, straightened his clothes.

Volke was slower in it, moving one forearm under his forehead and panting.

"I'll remember that a day or so… asshole," he said.

"Pft, just so long? Should have fucked you harder."

"And make my performance suffer?"

Karel had the waist of his pants in his hands, slid them back up.

"No. I'm teasing. Skies," Karel said.

Volke sagged as he was redressed.

"What, must I carry you back to bed? Have I worn you out?" Karel asked.

"I'm not carried," Volke said.

Karel was fast in how he nocked his arm under Volke's thighs, the other under his back.

"Wha-"

He looked up, that shock shifting into a coy smile, held, and heavy in Karel's arms.

"I'm going to start charging… By the second, until you-"

"Denied," Karel said.

The balance was difficult, the hold having been initiated so awkwardly.

"You're shaking. If you drop me…"

Karel drew on that steadiness he'd taken into himself since arrival, a strange essence that sat in him, a well waiting to be drunk.

He could see the color in Volke's cheeks as those trembles resolved.

"Ridiculous… fucking stupid," Volke said.

"Mm. Endure it," Karel said.

"Fine, I will, but don't knock me into anything. My legs are longer than Mark's. And get moving. That bearing won't last."

It was true enough. He moved, that steadiness lasting barely long enough.

"Is it better? Are we going back to sleep, or is it just me?" Volke asked, stripping off his shirt, kicking his unlaced boots away.

"Yes," Karel answered.

"Which?" Volke asked, shucking his pants back off.

Karel watched, the way he moved, the clench and release of muscling.

"You… teach me your methods…" he said.

"…Just me, eh, got it," Volke said, then looked up, "… … what? Repeat that. Let me hear it again."

Karel rolled his eyes, slung his clothes over the back of a chair.

"Teach me to fight in such a way."

"…Eheh. So I'm not losing my mind. Good. Sure," he said.

"Now, come to bed," Karel said.

"Already…" Volke said, sliding under the sheet and patting the spot alongside himself, "there."

Karel let himself fall into that space.

The weight on him was nearly so lulling as Mark's.

Chapter 4: anything your soul can make

Summary:

Mark's dreams run parallel to Karel's. They're learning vulnerability, in the ways that matter. Karel has more to say on the matter.

Notes:

dream sequence 2/3 (:

He knew it was a nightmare – nothing erotic in their moans, their body going clammy, the smaller sounds, pained, little jerks in their muscles – and he risked the hit by taking their hand in his.

Mark surged awake with a desperate gasp, babbling, indistinct, but he could make out enough of it.

"Oh, god, oh, god, Karel- Karel!" they finally managed, hoarse, a scared whisper.

Volke pulled them in close. They struggled.

"Mark, Mark," he soothed, "you're fine. You were dreaming."

It took a moment for his words to sink in, for them to stop trying to pull away. They were stronger than he'd perhaps given them credit for when fueled by panic.

They stilled, looking around, confused.

"Uh? Who- … Volke-" they seemed to suddenly realize, and he felt them go weak against him.

Too much, too fast, he was sure, from static. Waking up was the hardest on them.

"Yes, lover," he said, let them back down easy, pulled them in against himself. "He's deployed."

They breathed hard, turned into him, pressed their face into his chest.

"What did you dream?" he asked, though he had his guesses.

They sniffled.

"The reason he had to stab me," they said, voice cracking, thick.

"Mm," Volke intoned. "He died if you didn't, is it?"

"Yes," they sobbed.

He squeezed them in against himself.

"Gods… I- what- what if he's- he- oh, gods-"

They abruptly started to try to extricate themself, sit up.

He caught their hand, pulled them back down.

"You are not going after him," he said, letting a firmness creep into his voice. "He's fine."

Their eyes were fixed on his, wide, fearful. Then there was some flicker of defiance, and it died just as quickly, replaced by something else, a bereft look, pleading.

"Hold me," they asked, letting the tension slip from their body, "please."

He pulled them back in, pulled the sheets back over them, arms around them.

"I'm sorry," they said, weakly. "I- you're right, I-"

He hushed them. "Come back to sleep," he said.

They were still a long moment, but too tense. They weren't sleeping, not even close, frozen like a rabbit.

It wasn't quite a surprise when they tilted their head up.

"Volke… would you…?"

Oh, he knew the tone. It would be agony for them to get through the sentence, but he was quiet. He wanted them to finish it.

"Please, Volke," they tried again, as though hoping he would, wouldn't make them say it.

"Please?" he prompted.

He shouldn't tease. Not now, not like this, but he did kiss them as a space between their words.

There was still a horror he could see in their eyes by moonlight, a lingering fear.

"Calm me down... Help me- something."

He knew it well enough, those words he'd caught here and there when neither though him near enough to hear – Karel may have told them to, but this was all them. They'd cut through their pride for it.

The exact wording didn't matter, and he cut off further attempts at getting it just right. He cupped their cheek.

"Easy, sweetheart," he said. "Come here."

They were already, of course, near enough, pressed against him from chest down through the hips.

He slid that hand around to the back of their head, kissed them, and kept kissing them until they felt soft against him, and their leg slid over his hip.

"Please… need you," they said.

"Mm," he hummed against them. "I'm here."

It was too warm a sensation to be asked for like this. It had him glad for the darkness. It also got him hard like nothing else, to be wanted in such a way, situation be damned.

He had his hands moved to working down their sleep shorts. They shifted to let him, and once he had them wholly off, he slid between their legs.

They pushed up into him. His breath caught. He lay against them and kissed them again.

"Be patient," he murmured as they hitched a leg over his hip.

It would be so easy, though – just tilt back, let himself slip in.

"Need you, please," they said, voice settling back into that sleepy register, and it sent heat through him.

"Eh," he relented with a low little laugh. "Or don't, if you ask like that…"

These open admissions from them had always been such a weakness.

He let himself angle against them, little adjustments until he found that purchase that let him fit in, in time with kissing them again. Their arms slung around his neck. He ought have taken off the sleep shirt as well to let himself feel more skin, the swell of their tits pressed more directly into his chest.

Goddess, but they were so hot inside, tight around him, clearly not all of that tension gone.

Their body pressed up into his.

"Volke," they breathed, eyes on his, like he was the sun.

He was sure they didn't know they looked at him so. They'd hate knowing it. There was such a deep affection in their eyes, he could stay there forever, if he wished to be a fool, to risk their figuring it out.

He rocked into them, every thrust slow, deep. Their eyes slipped shut, soft sounds in their throat. Tears, he could see in the shine the moonlight caught on.

They didn't need words, just this.

It was a slower build than what he'd often push them to when he felt them clench around him, legs tighten against his hips, and that weakness leave them slack a long moment.

He kissed them through it even as his own resistance drew thin, kiss deepening, growing hotter, wetter. He groaned into their mouth as it overcame him.

As he drew back, their eyes slid open, and there it was again, that warmed molten steel staring up at him.

"You…" they started.

He let that easy smile tug at his lips. He didn't prod them quite yet. They glanced away, unable to meet his eyes as they spoke.

"I feel so… safe, with you," they finally said, all but cringing at it.

Even with the dim light of the moon as the only illumination, he could see the pale of their cheeks deepen.

He kissed their cheek, framed their face in his hands.

"That's what I'm here for," he said, and they bit their lip, looked up at him.

"…Why? I mean…" a sigh, "not why. I don't imagine you'd… mmm, what I mean is-"

"Mark," he said. "I love you."

"I-"

Their gaze darted away. They were looking for something else, but glanced back at him, suddenly realizing.

"I love you too," they said, quickly.

But they were calculating something, trying to line something up in their head.

He sighed, kissed their forehead.

"Give yourself a break. He told you exactly why," Volke chuckled.

Their eyes snapped back to his, an unease in the set of their jaw.

He kissed them again, soft, slow, smoldering as he let it deepen. When he broke it, he rolled his eyes at them.

"He was right."

Their cunt seemed to flutter around him when they connected those dots. He should have pulled out, but they felt so damn good around him.

"Oh," they said, low, soft.

"You have one more in you?" he asked.

"Rock me back to sleep?" they said, so much more poetic of a statement than they ever used.

"Mm. Yes, sweetheart," he said. "Now relax."

He moved in slow motion. Despite it, he wouldn't have to make himself finish quickly. Something about their whole manner – softer than he'd seen them, possibly ever, had him full of need and his body wanting to spill already.

He wouldn't examine that feeling too deeply.

When he finally lay beside them, their head lay on his shoulder, and soon enough, heavy, even breathing showed them fast asleep.

In pre-dawn, his eyes slit open at the bed bowing alongside him, and he shot a sly grin to Karel.

"They… missed you," he said.

Karel pressed a kiss to their temple before bedding down, the exhaustion on his face, through his whole body, evident.

Mark turned their head towards Karel, eyes fluttering open, reached for his hand.

He let them take it.

"I dreamed you… died…" they said, voice slurring with sleep.

"I did not."

"Good," they said, and Volke realized that they'd fallen right back asleep.

"They did," Volke sighed, voice barely a whisper.

"Mm… they have had this dream… at least now they do better than wandering off into the night."

Volke's eyes drifted to them, the top of their head, their form that may as well have been dead half-atop him save for the slow breathing.

"Eh. Yeah. This is better," he said.

"They've gotten soft with you," he finally said, holding back a yawn.

"You told them to," Volke said.

Karel hummed, a low laugh under his breath.

"You're enjoying it…"

Volke rolled his eyes. "You insist on saying when I'm trapped here… Hush. You're going to wake them again."

Karel was careful in how he shifted, leaned over them to kiss him.

There was something in that gaze that Volke knew too well.

He let his lips pull into a smirk.

"You… Say it."

Karel rolled his eyes. "Must I?" he asked.

"Eh, if you don't, I'll think it's not true."

He scowled. "You do know it is. Clearly."

"Hmm… fine," Volke said, stared up at the ceiling.

He glanced at Karel from the corner of his eye, the very picture of pouting and checking to see if he was being observed in it.

"Damned rogue," Karel said. "Of course I do."

"Do what?" he asked, little smirk on his lips.

"Love you."

"Ah. Good. Then I won't look like a fool to say it back."

Karel waited.

"Eh, not right now. I don't want to wake them up."

"You ass," Karel growled, toning it down quickly to a hissed whisper.

"Heh… fine, fine, I do, demon. Love you, of course. Their sleeping through this…what a tragedy," he chuckled.

"Indeed," Karel said.

He gave their hand a soft squeeze.

"Tell them about it…later. When it will fluster them," he said.

Volke chuckled, low, soft. "Precisely."

Chapter 5: an extant form of life

Summary:

Volke remembers what he saw down there. He and Mark talk about other things, older things, their past together, and a little bit of his own.

Notes:

dream fuckery 3/3

This was the sort of thing he could get used to – two full sets of tits pressed against him as he was traded back and forth between them like the prettiest dancer at a soiree. Both sets of lips craving his mouth, and the way they touched… he didn't recall how all of their clothes had come off, but two sets of hands, and one of them had finally found that spot at the top of his neck. Volke leaned forward as they pressed their lips there instead of fighting for his mouth, as that shiver ran through him. He wasn't going to ask why, how. If it was some kind of regression, he'd let it slide, if this was what he got for doing so.

Their mouth slid down from his, down to his throat, to his chest. He groaned at lips kissing against, then a velvet-soft tongue licking at a nipple. They were good. Mark had always been so, so fast at learning exactly the right moves.

He gazed at them so appreciatively. He was pulled to his back, and he reached for them, caught their face in his hands, kissed them while the other continued down. Hot breath grazed his cock, then lips kissing at the tip, then the hot slide down. He groaned, gasped at it.

"Mark-" he breathed.

They always managed to take him off guard at how easily they got the whole of him down their throat. He laid a hand at the back of their head, encouraging.

"What? No, I'm Mark," said the one whose lips he had.

"Eh, aren't you both?" he chuckled. "That's how it works, right?"

The one on his cock looked up at him with those steel-grey eyes, the edges of them crinkling, and they hummed as their head bobbed.

"Oh, that's eleven," they said, against his ear.

He met their eyes. "What?" he asked.

He looked back down. They weren't whole, the other half-

Volke's eyes snapped open, and he took a sharp breath. He was clammy. Hard as hell. He didn't want to do anything with that, though.

Mark lay on him, warm, heavy on his chest, and they stirred, likely from how he tensed.

It took them a moment, eyes focusing on his.

"Volke…? You…ok?" they asked, voice rough with sleep.

"Eh? Just a dream, go back to sleep," he said.

Their brows knit as they put things together, how they stuck to his bare skin, the way his eyes had been wide before he'd had the presence of mind to force them back to that half-open drowse.

"Bad dream?" they asked.

"Mm. Don't worry about it."

They kissed his cheek, shifted, snuggled tighter against him, leg slung over his thigh, arm across his chest.

"Dreamed about you…" he finally said, feeling the weight of their gaze on him.

"Bad way?" they asked, quiet.

He turned his head to meet their eyes.

There was something in his expression that had them reach for him, fingertips alighting on his cheek.

"Started off good," he chuckled. "Two of you… you know. Heh. Then…one of them was eleven."

He didn't need to say more.

"I'm sorry," they said.

At least it hadn't been twelve, he supposed. Or any of the other, earlier steps.

There was something they wanted to say, something stuck in their throat, he could tell. They seemed to swallow it, kiss his cheek again, fingertips stroking his cheek, then brushing through his hair.

"Mark," he murmured, glancing away.

"Yes?"

Their touch on his scalp, he started to relax into.

"Stay here," he said.

Their touch paused, just for a moment.

"I will. I'm not going back. Promise," they said.

Their lips pressed to his, softer than they usually kissed, more like how he did, slow, sweet.

He turned into them, curled his arms around them.

"I… want you, here," he said, skin feeling hot as he said it.

"I'm here," they said.

Their touch reached the back of his head, traced down his neck.

He couldn't help the tiny wince at it, at the shock of pleasure at such a glancing touch.

"Ah? You…"

"Found it," he said.

It took them a moment, clearly, sleep still slowing their thoughts.

"Oh," they said after they connected it. "Oh!"

They touched there again.

He felt his body warm, warmer.

"Mark… we should be going back to sleep."

"Oh? Do you not want me touching here?" they asked.

He was still hard.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked with a chuckle. "It's what will happen if you do."

"Hah… Lie back, I'll take care of it…"

"Mm, if you say so," he said.

They slid their thigh, soft and smooth and perfect, astride his hips as he shifted to his back.

They guided his cock to slip inside, slid down until they sat flush against him. So hot, tight around him. His gaze unfocused a moment. They lay against his chest, tits pressed into him, and they kissed him, sweet and warm. Soft. They were soft for him. His arms wound around them. Their touch was back on his neck, stroking down from his hairline as they rocked against him.

"It's me, I'm here," they said.

He moaned into them, their touch like the lightning they were learning to command.

It was- they were rapturous as they moved. The way they ground against him after a while was too much.

"Mark," he breathed. "This-"

"Mm, come on," they urged.

He couldn't help the sly smile. Their read was getting better.

"Come on," they repeated. "Come for me."

It was so easy as they kept touching him, as their walls squeezed him tight, fitting him like a glove, body all but begging for him to spill inside them.

They scratched down from his hairline to the base of his neck, and he couldn't even think of stopping himself from the shocked, strangled cry. It was that fast, that heat overflowing, heady pulses of orgasm taking him, eyes rolled back, pinched shut, arching into them.

"Fuck!" he gasped.

They kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck, and he caught them, pulled them to meet his lips, starting hard and settling down to something far more slow, sensual. He lingered there a while, just coming back to himself.

"Mm…Mark… I love you," he murmured.

There was that look again, their looking at him like he was the sun.

"You… look at me like that," he said.

"Like…what?" they asked, stroking through his hair.

"…Like you love me," he said, smiling fondly.

"Because I do," they said. "I do love you."

He hummed. It was strange, feeling so comfortable, the feeling taking him by surprise every time he noticed it – really noticed it.

"Come back to sleep?" Mark asked, shifting to lay alongside him.

He turned to them, arm laying across their middle.

"What have I done to you?" he asked, grinning.

"What?" they asked, smile growing dark, their eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"He was right… You have gone soft with me."

"Like you didn't with me?" they jabbed back, laughing softly.

"We're talking about you," he said.

He kissed them, felt how they gravitated into it, how their whole self seemed to open to him.

"I don't know. You like it when I'm like this."

He kissed them again, again, and again.

"I do… you like it too."

They glanced away. He grinned, pulled them back to face him.

The scowl felt performative, with the way the edges of their mouth kept being pulled up.

"Maybe so… maybe you let me…" they said.

Even in the low light, he could see the color deepen in their cheeks.

"Karel… he told me that I… am like you, like that. That we both wanted someone…"

He knew it well enough, but to hear them say it, something ached in him. He cleared his throat as though that might get rid of the tightness in it.

"To love," he said, eyes on theirs.

"Yeah," they said.

"The man's damn perceptive," Volke said, rolled his eyes. "Loathe him, sometimes."

Mark laughed. "You love him, though."

"Eh?"

"I wasn't sleeping," they said.

Volke barked a laugh.

"You fake it better than I do… you bitch."

They grinned, tsked. "Is that anything to call your lover?"

"When you deserve it."

They pressed their lips to his, kissed him quickly, flirtatiously.

"You're far too awake now, aren't you?"

He looked over their shoulder at the night sky out through the window. No trace of dawn yet.

"Suppose so," he said, wry grin on his lips.

"Come with me? Let's… let's just get outside…"

He rose up to sitting, watched them as they slid out of bed and started to dress, at the sway of their breasts until he couldn't anymore as they pulled on enough clothes to be caught decently outdoors.

"You're staring," they said.

"Of course."

They drew near and took his hand. "Come on, put something on."

"Heh, I should, shouldn't I?"

He followed their little pull, stood and started grabbing up clothes discarded on the floor from the night before, put on enough - a shirt, pants.

"So, where are we going?" he asked.

"I…" and they shrugged. "I didn't get that far… just was thinking… we're up, why not?"

They held out their hand for him, and he took it.

"Ah," they said, suddenly. "I know a place."

"Lead on, summoner," he said.

And they did, hand warm in his, until they'd reached the edge of the castle, a little depression against the wall where water pooled.

Fireflies lazed through the air.

They pulled him to a little ridge of rock, fallen stone.

"Before… way before… I used to come here to think, in the summer," they said, settling down.

"How long were you here, before?" he asked. "Before me?"

They pondered.

"It's…hard to keep track of, sometimes… couple of years…"

"That time, on your own," he said.

"I wasn't completely alone, Lyn was here, and of course the trio, they'd summoned me, and…"

They paused, eyes on his.

"But…it was lonely. I'd thought about flirting around, but things were too serious, too often. I needed to be a fixed point."

They looked up at him, shrugged. "Too…caught up in my own divinity, I guess."

He chuckled, sat alongside them, threaded his arm under the drape of their coat to pull them in close.

"Less lonely than back home, though. You were a ghost."

"Speak for yourself," they said. "You wouldn't even eat with… hah, a lot of the force didn't even know you were there."

He eyed them, felt some warmth in his face. "You did."

"Of course I did, helping Soren… we knew most things." They paused, smile growing embarrassed. "I was always hoping you'd come by, and then in the archives, between wars…"

"It had crossed my mind to try a few different ploys with you to get information…"

"Ploys," they said. "What ploys?"

He let an indulgent grin tug at his lips. They were old enough to hear about it.

"You'd seemed interested… heh, I had though about seeing if you'd play at being a clandestine lover…"

"Oh-!" Mark said, then squinting at him. "Oh… Volke…"

That shift in their tone, they clearly knew without his saying why not.

"Eheh, as I said. For the best. I doubt you'd have known how to handle me."

"I… was quite young," they conceded. "It'd have broken my heart if it wasn't real… and back then, I'd never been with anyone."

He hummed an affirmation at something he'd always suspected.

"I'd have been a terrible first time," he admitted.

"Really?" they asked, brows knitting. "Volke, you're… very good to me."

"I care about you," he said, too automatically. That heat wasn't going to leave him any time soon. "It's different. I treat a lover… differently."

They pressed their lips to his. They'd gotten so soft with him, it still took him by surprise sometimes. He wanted to chase when they pulled back, but let them speak.

"I never asked, have you, really, before? Had other lovers?"

He chuckled. "Do you want that answer? Really?"

"I'm not jealous, I'm just nosy," they said.

"Heh… a few. Let me guess, you want to know about them?"

They hummed an affirmation. "If it's something you…want to talk about?"

He looked away a moment, focusing on the fireflies, and rolling the dice in his head for what he wanted to share.

"I'll tell you about one… ask me later about others, if you want to know."

They just watched intently, listening.

"A woman, a whore I saw a few times before she bought her own contract out. I was a lot younger then… I was impressed at her buying herself out. She was experienced, of course, taught me some things… heh, you like some of those things. She was beautiful, but a very different way from you," and he kissed them, quickly, as though providing some reassurance, and unwilling to think more on that. "We crossed paths for some years and would reconnect, heh, you know, whenever we did. Then one day she had another beautiful woman on her arm, and I knew we were over. Eheh, I found out she'd amassed such a fortune she'd been able to buy out her first love from another house…"

Mark leaned into him, stars in their eyes, sighed at it.

"Oh, that's…"

They trailed off.

"Mm. Isn't it, just?"

"You ever miss her?"

The ease was so hard to trust, and yet, they kept not failing him.

"Of course I do," he said.

They hummed softly. "She sounds amazing… honestly, it'd be weird to me if you didn't."

They were quiet a long time. A comfortable quiet, with the crickets coming through and the faint rustle of the warm summer night breeze overhead.

"I… like this," they finally said. "How we started, I mean. Knowing you wanted me…"

"Eh, no romance…" he said, a distant echo.

"Pff, yes, well, I was very fond, but, as I'd said, making that your problem…"

He kissed them in return. A slower kiss than the prior they'd given him.

"Heh… your problem… It got where I wanted it, eventually," he said.

"Where you wanted it… where I wanted it, too."

He rolled his eyes. "Good thing your demon knows the heart somehow better than you do, eh?"

"Easier to see someone else's mess than your own," they countered. "How do you think I figured out who to pair up in all of those battles?"

He chuckled. "And I was left all alone."

"You… then, you wanted to be, didn't you?"

"True enough," he said. "I didn't want the pestering."

"I pester you," they said, laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his cheek rather than his lips.

"You don't. You're very bad at it, if you're trying."

"Mm… I can work on that. I do hate to fail at any-"

They trailed off as he pulled their legs across his, then the rest of them into his lap.

"Oh-"

"Shush, sweetheart," he said. "I might finally be getting tired again… just watch the fireflies with me."

They leaned into him, quiet, still, and he took in that warmth. They didn't wake up when he carried them back to bed.

Notes:

k enough angst, on to chapter 12 and onward of summoner supports!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 6 of tactical advantages