Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Flame Face had been bothering Laure ALL morning and afternoon. Now the sun was setting, and he still wouldn’t be quiet. She was trying to learn to tune out his constant smarmy teasing, but that was nearly impossible, and he did NOT listen to her when she politely asked him to shut the fuck up.

“Supposito, can you see that smoke? There’s a tavern! And a tavern means alcohol!” Flame Face bounded in a childlike joy towards the gray plumes that twisted lazily in the sky above the towering pines somewhere not far off in the distance. The brittle gravel crunched under his feet as he leaped down the path winding deeper into the forest.

Laure sighs and jogs to keep up with him, but she still trails farther behind, glancing at the trees that whirled by in a glowing blur. The sinking sun had dressed the trees in a warm golden light. It heated her cheeks and flashed in greeting at her through the forest.

Flame Face's pink fiery head bobbed a bit as he danced to the now visible log cabin at the end of the dirt path they had been following.

“Hey! Flame Face! Wait for me!” She called after him, her jog transforming into a sprint. The immortal screeched to a stop at the door and turned around, his eye rolling. He bent over at the waist and put his hands on his hips.

“Have you started doing that cardio yet?” The homunculus surveyed her up and down, his expression unimpressed. Laure tried to take shallow breaths to hide her exhaustion, though, in reality, she wanted to gulp air like she would never breathe it again. Her face burned as she halted next to him.

“I’m working on it.” She replied tersely.

“Uh-huh.” He scoffed.

Laure gave him a stare so fierce she was surprised daggers didn’t come shooting out of her eyeballs. Flame Face glanced back at her, then threw his head back and laughed.

“Glad ONE of us is having a good time.” She growled, nudging past him as he opened the door. Laure didn’t take any care to be gentle as she did so, which caused her to “accidentally” elbow him in the ribs. Flame Face doubled over with a cough and narrowed his eye at her before standing up straight again.

Laure scornfully eyed the inner part of the three-story log cabin. It was much bigger than it had appeared. The lobby had couches and chairs nestled in a corner next to a crackling flame that blazed against the fireplace. Directly ahead of the pair was a desk with a barely visible shriveled old man behind it. He was too absorbed in writing something to notice them coming in. To the right was a bistro built into the motel. Within it, sat a small bar lined with stools and a tired barkeep cleaning shot glasses.

The setting felt cozy, like a safe little cottage in the woods. Laure’s shoulders relaxed, and she closed the door behind her, continuing further inside. Flame Face was doing the same, taking in his surroundings and maneuvering alongside her. His gaze was fixated on the booze.

“This looks like some kind of hotel... I wonder if they’ll have a room open for us tonight.”

“Ugh, finally. I’m sick of sleeping on the ground like a peasant.” Flame Face sniffed haughtily and wandered over to indulge in the beer he had been craving for the past ten minutes. Laure sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

After taking a deep breath, she swerved forward with a new attitude, approaching the front desk. She knocked on the wood and smiled politely at the man. His face was swollen with sores and bumps that oozed. It was a sad sight, really, but a reality in which they had to live.

“Hello!” Laure chirruped at the old man, who only returned a frown of sullen misery. Her heart sank in awkwardness. “Um, sorry to bother you, but... Do you happen to have any rooms open?” She peered down at him, his head barely rising over the counter.

“Last room left.” He croaked like he hadn’t spoken in hours. The receptionist leisurely opened a neatly organized drawer and enclosed his fingers around a small metal key. He reached up and presented it to Laure, who gingerly grasped the object. She flipped it around in her hands. It was cool to the touch.

“When will you be checking out?” He yawns.

“First thing in the morning. I’ll return the key at around dawn.” Laure clapped her hands together over her head and bowed before taking a step back. She turned to see Flame Face at the bar, chatting with the barkeep and howling raucously.

“Hey!” She called to him, pinching the key and dangling it above her head. “I’ve got it!”

Flame Face twirled around on his stool to look at her, sighed, and then stood up. He drained the last of his beer and set it on the counter with a clang. He carelessly slapped a few coins on the table and then placed his hands in his pockets, strolling his way over to Laure’s side.

“Took you long enough, Supposito, I would’ve found the sword of truth by the time you were done over there.” He snorted at his joke.

“You wish, anyways, our room should be located behind the lobby.” She said with a smirk, keeping her shoulder pressed against him. Laure stayed close, wary of the effects of alcohol on his balance. She tentatively led them out of the cabin. The transition from the warm tavern to the chilly night air sent a shiver down her spine. The sky had turned a dark cerulean, rapidly replacing the sunlight, with stars beginning to dot the sky like freckles. The warm light from the cabin behind them softly glowed in contrast to the dark trees surrounding them.

She was glad to have Flame Face with her. But then, she felt the soft heat radiating upon her cheek leave, and his fuschia blaze was now sauntering away from her. Alarmed, Laure hurried after him before he could disappear.

“What the hell are you doing?! Do you WANT us to get lost?”

He whipped around with a scrutinizing glare. “What, you think I can’t find it on my own, Supposito?”

“Of course you can’t!” Laure retorts, fuming.

Flame Face lets out an offended scoff. “Oh really? Watch me!” And so off he went, skidding down arbitrary dirt paths and dodging at the last minute out of the way of trees which he would chortle at every time she ran into one. After tripping on a million roots, scraping her legs on hundreds of thorns, and her nose stinging from slamming into trees, they finally found their cabin. The night, utterly pitch black, seemed to urge all the creatures to sleep with it and its silence. As the moon clawed its way up into the sky, it painted the canopy with a frosty gleam.

While Flame Face was laughing and boasting cockily about some 'see I told you so', Laure felt like her heart would explode. She wanted to yell at him, but the scowl she was trying to force upon her face crumbled as she joined his laughter. They guffawed like someone had told the funniest joke since the malaise plagued the kingdom. The moment made them forget the malaise even existed for a blissful short while. When Laure finally caught her breath, she fumbled with the key in the inky darkness, trying to find the opening. Flame Face leaned down to make it easier to see, which she smiled at him gratefully for. She then turned the key and opened the door.

It was too dark to see much, but they stood in a small hallway that led into a room with a single queen-sized bed with a closet to the left. The bathroom was an outhouse next to the main lobby. Flame Face let out a loud yawn and began undressing, heedlessly tossing the shirt he wore that cut off at the midriff onto the ground.

Laure scoured for a match or candle to light the cabin better, which she found on the dresser in the hallway in front of the door. She caught Flame Face’s wrist and lit several of the candles with his fire and put one on each nightstand next to the sides of the bed. Laure’s limbs were shrieking in pain, but she had to ignore it for the moment. The room was now easier to see, casting long shadows along the wooden floor. The carpet that rolled out from the doorway stopped at the end of the hall. She let out a grunt of pain as she sat down on the bed, now able to see her body was riddled with wounds. Flame Face opened his eye, which flew open in alarm.

“You...” He sat up, distress mingling across his expression, which he poorly attempted to cover up. He reached towards her, but hesitated, like he was scared of hurting her more.

“I’ll go wash up.” She sighed.

“Wait for me!” Flame Face got to his feet, bare upper body muscles rippling.

“No way, I’m not doing that again.”

“You should've caught up with me sooner!”

“It’s kind of hard to when you can’t see!”

“Which is why I should go!”

“Y’know if you’re any more insistent, you might get me to believe that you’re WORRIED about me!” A smug look permeated across her face as the immortal flushed and crossed his arms, flustered.

“I hope a bear eats you.” He jeered, looking away.

She chuckled lightly. “Be back in a bit.”

Chapter Text

Laure closed the door behind her and let out a breath. The night was silent—the kind of silence that swallowed up any noise, the type of silence made out of screams. A chill scurried down her spine, and she tightened her grip around the doorknob, feeling her hand going white from the lack of circulation.

It was almost otherworldly—what the forest felt like without Flame Face by her side. With him, it was never quiet. The kingdom felt full of life, almost like the malaise was a far-off dream. He was her escape from reality, but now, reality felt all TOO real.

She couldn’t turn back now. And give Flame Face something new to make fun of her for? No way. Laure shook her head and forced her hand away from the knob, continuing forward with newfound determination. The further in she went, the faster she felt that confidence shrink. She didn’t like feeling so small.

As Laure walked over the crunching pine needles, she couldn't help but think about how she hadn't felt so insignificant since leaving the Guardians of Truth school. The situation was somewhat similar, but instead of scrubbing toilets, she was packing lunches for herself and an immortal being. The thought made her snort. It felt different from feeling small and scared; now it was more about feeling like she only mattered if she did something for others.

However, unlike the guardians, Flame Face... tried, but she would never let him in. A pit in her stomach grew bigger and heavier, causing her to slump in guilt. The contrition reminded her of another skeleton in her closet. Laure couldn’t understand why people lied. It was such an awful, sick feeling to carry everywhere. It made her queasy when she would look at him and remind herself of the fraud she had become. It wasn’t just about dooming her soul; she was more than willing to sacrifice herself for the world, but... It was more than that. She was lying to him.

Whether the other liked it or not, they now shared each other's lives. It meant she knew Flame Face and the secrets he kept hidden from everyday people. She saw things about him that no one else would ever see. Laure’s heart thrummed in her chest, beating a little too loudly. She climbed up the gradient hills, her candle flickering.

She gazed at the smooth, swaying flame, her mind winding down the path that led back to her one-eyed companion. Laure let out a sigh. Despite how much Flame Face bothered her, it was easy to be comfortable around him. She liked how he looked at her. Whenever his gaze caught hers nowadays, it was genuine. No matter what snarky raillery he was spewing out, his eye always gleamed in the same tenderness. Flame Face could try as hard as he wanted for as long as he desired, but malice could never find its way into her heart when it came to him.

Laure squinted into the omnipresent darkness, trying to spot the water pump she had tripped over while chasing Flame Face to their cabin. A silver glitter winked at her, and she stooped towards it, sighing in relief. A bucket sat next to the pump, which she began to fill with water. She let the rushing sound of liquid drown her thoughts.

Flame Face sat with one leg crossed over the other and his hands behind his head. He leaned back against the bed frame, his sparks lapping harmlessly at the wood. Despite trying to appear apathetic, his stomach was tied up in knots of worry for his friend. He didn't know she had gotten THAT hurt while they were messing around.

A feeling he had never known weighed him down. The best way to describe it was as if he were carrying invisible boulders. Though it did nothing, he rolled his shoulder to alleviate the transparent burden. Flame Face frowned, opening his eye to the window on the other side of the wall, examining for a flicker or anything that symbolized Laure’s return. He squirmed a little, itching with discomfort.

It’s not that he CARED if anything happened to her. Why should he? All Laure ever did was whine and complain. She never listened to him. After all, he WAS the chosen one, and if he was gonna save the stupid kingdom, he deserved respect.

Flame Face was only worrying because she was his way to death. There was a cycle, at least, back in the dungeon, that he had been more than tired of. He’d been trapped there for centuries, as far as he knew. The days turned into nights as fast as his eye blinking, and every time, at the closing of each day, he’d always end up in the same place. He had been alive for longer than he cared to admit, but he’d never truly LIVED any of those years, rotting away in that shitty prison.

Well, until Laure. Despite it all, she was useful. He needed her. He needed her to end the.. already-ended cycle. He felt sweat bead above his brow. The past few days, fighting together, traveling together, seeing sights he had never witnessed, well… It had been the time of his life. And... she wasn’t SO bad sometimes.

Laure, dare he admit it, was fun to be around. Despite being a bit of a nuisance, he found himself enjoying her company. She was fun to tease—the most fun out of anyone he had ever met. When he did, her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched, as if someone had just smashed her with a frying pan. He loved to watch each wrinkle appear on her perfectly sculpted face, similar to the serrated edge of a knife. It was observing as her lip curled back in a clumsy dance to brandish her bared teeth that glittered like freshly fallen snow; it was her bright, vomit-green eyes, alight with fury as if forgetting the punchline of a joke she was making that made his stomach flutter… Yeah, seeing her like that was what he lived for.

He felt a brief sense of contentment as he pictured her face clearly in his head, but then his worries rammed into his stomach. Where the hell was she? An image flashed in his mind: a large, zombie-like figure with dull, decaying skin, glowing eyes, and bright orange hair. The thought made him feel nauseous. Why? She was his ticket to freedom. He needed her. He repeated this in his mind, avoiding the idea that he might actually care about her just a little bit.

Fuck, Supposito. What the hell was she doing to him? This ache nestled in his entire being…The feeling of caring... It wasn’t even bad. It felt... light, almost. Something faint he had felt before, but stronger. Something that made his heart feel sick, but not with discomfort or malice. There was a longing, a yearning, something so passionate that he squirmed at just a flash of the raw emotion. Flame Face struggled to push these feelings away, telling himself they didn't matter. None of that stuff mattered, none of that stupid adoration or “idolization” shit. There was nothing to look up to or admire about that moron. He grunted, grinding his teeth. Fatigue from wrestling his mind wore him out entirely. Feelings, honestly, who had time for them? Flame Face was more than alright with ignoring the jump of his heart whenever Laure said his name.

Well, he hoped she’d be back soon. After all, any company was better than none at all, even if it was HER.

Laure let out a sigh, running her hand through her slicked hair. She put it back up in a wet ponytail, a sort of numbness starting from her fingers and traveling down her body as she did so. Her mind shoved the image of a kind, strong-willed woman with gentle hands into her face. The woman’s hair was pulled back just like Laure’s.

She shook away the thoughts that clung like barnacles of grief to her brain and folded her cloak before standing up again. The yellow glow contrasted with the dark fabric she wore, illuminating her face. Laure could feel the radiation against her eyeballs, and she blinked to wet them.

The night was still, seemingly frozen in time. Branches remained stiff, and the moon was unwavering while it painted the ground silver. There was a sort of deafness that fell upon Laure as she crept her way through the forest, hugging her cloak close to her chest.

Though using a candle as her only light source was risky, Laure firmly believed it would hold out. As confident as one could be in a nearly pitch-black environment, she strived forward while biting her lower lip. A piece of skin ripped away, causing the rustic taste of blood to violate her mouth, making her wince. She held the candlestick tightly, though that was growing more uncomfortable by the minute as the metal was hot to the touch from the flame. It reflected a yellow metallic sparkle into her eyes.

Her clothes clutched tightly to her wet skin while she stumbled through the dark. Eventually, warm light became visible in the distance, settling the worry that made Laure’s stomach churn. Her pace quickened as she closed the distance between her and the building. Her silent steps upon the musky forest floor raised in volume while she ducked around the trees, trying not to repeat the previous chase. She blew out the candle when the light was close enough to illuminate her surroundings. Her mind finally quieted as she turned the doorknob and softly opened the door.

Chapter Text

Laure opened the door to find Flame Face sprawled across the bed, arms and legs outstretched. If not for his quaking snores, she would have assumed he was dead. She stomped over to the bed after carefully setting her things on the counter.

“Get up, you bedhog!” She snarled. She grabbed hold of his ankle and yanked. His face crumpled to the floor, legs folding over his head and awkwardly squishing him up against the wall.

“Ow! Damn it, are you crazy?! What the hell was that?!”

“Karma.” Then, with a faint groan, Laure fell into bed and buried her face in a pillow, her limbs dragging into the plush mattress below from exhaustion.

With a scowl, Flame Face tried to free himself from his awkward position. He reached up and seized Laure's arm, causing her to yelp as she rolled off and landed with a thud on his stomach.

"Oof! Supposito, have you ever thought about going on a diet?" He wheezed.

Ignoring him, Laure tried to wriggle away, but to her dismay, their limbs only became more entangled, twisting and pressing against each other. She squirmed, finally freeing her hands and placing them on his sturdy shoulders before pushing herself up. Flame Face was then able to turn over and stagger to his feet.

“You started it.” He huffed. Laure rolled her eyes, ignoring his petty blame game.

“This is your side of the bed." She pointed to her right at the foot of it.

“Yeah? Well fuck you and your stupid “my side, your side,” we are sharing this damn thing, so says the chosen one!” He clambered up the left side and scuttled back up the covers, shooting Laure a smug smirk. It was clear he was just trying to piss her off. Laure sighed, decided there was no point in arguing, and agreed, thinking that maybe if she placated him, he wouldn't be as demanding. Besides, sharing a bed with him wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world.

“Whatever.” Laure reluctantly extinguished each candle, glancing at Flame Face as he crawled deeper under the bedclothes. Eventually, only the gentle fuchsia of his flame remained.

Laure carefully made her way from the counter to the bed, gingerly feeling her way through the darkness while her eyes adjusted. She lifted up one side of the blanket and dove in, tentatively enveloping herself in the most comforting thing she had felt all day. Weariness tugged at her eyelids and slowed her mind as if she were plowing through a morass. Thoughts buzzed like mosquitoes in the morass she struggled through, unable to quiet down for sleep. Just as they had hugged around her, the covers were abruptly yanked away from her body. A flash of contempt burned hot in her veins, startling her out of her fatigue. She let out a snarl as she whipped her head around to glare daggers at Flame Face’s smugly relaxed form.

“Do you MIND!?” She fumbled for a piece of cloth she could grasp, then jerked it towards her.

“Now who’s being a bedhog!?” He pushed himself up before wrenching it right back. Out of the sheer, overpowering urge to piss him off in any way possible, Laure slipped under the untucked comforter and attached herself to Flame Face's back. She wondered if she imagined him hesitating before speaking.

"Get the hell off of me! I don't want to become infected with the stupid malaise too!" he said, looking so comically frustrated that it almost seemed like an act. He twisted over in her grasp, glaring over his shoulder at her, eye burning intensely with rage.

Laure wrapped her arms tighter around his tense, warm chest. "Sharing is caring, chosen one." She grinned at him cheekily.

"Fuck you." He spat and reluctantly released a portion of the blanket. Laure then cautiously scooted off, alarmed to find herself missing the warmth of his strong, compact torso. She immediately steered her thoughts away from the idea, allowing the cogs in her head to churn and shift as her gaze drifted up to the ceiling.

Their cabin was now dark except for the faint pink hue his fire cast. Compared to the harsh and frigid ground they had been sleeping on for the last few days, the mattress they now shared was a welcome change.

Flame Face seemed to share the same thought, as he remarked, "See Supposito?" While holding out his hands as though they were reaching for something just a few inches away. "I told you buying this room was worth it."

“Yeah, I’ll admit it.” She sighed as he folded his hands behind his head.

“This is better than sleeping on the ground.” She breathed out, relieved.

“That so? Unfortunately, I've already made up my mind. It would be inappropriate for a priestess to receive such extravagant treatment. You might let it get to your head.” He turned toward her, his tone playful.

“What?! You can’t just do that!” She gasped.

“Of course I can; I am the chosen one after all.” His eye glistened with mirth. “Unless you’d rather me shove you off some time in the middle of the night, when you least expect it?” As if to conceal a smile, she wrinkled her nose at him.

“Not if I do it first.”

“Is that a challenge, Supposito?”

“No, it’s a warning.”

Without moving, Flame Face narrowed his eye and huffed. However, he was unable to maintain his indignant mask, and his shoulders started to shake with giggles. Laure's expression shifted into one of sardonic self-righteousness.

“You’re laughing now, but just wait for when it really happens!”

“Sure, I’ll be awake all night, terrified.” He forced out between chuckles as he wiped a nonexistant tear from his eye.

"Well, maybe I'd be able to sleep if you didn't snore in my ear. It's the only thing keeping the zombies at bay out of terror, but I think it's worth losing my sleep for."

He scoffs. With an offended gasp, Laure sat up, turned her body to pick up her pillow, and smushed it into his face.

His shout of surprise was quickly smothered. Flame Face squirmed violently for a moment, jerking and coiling, muffled cries of protest hushed by the pillow. He put one hand on his throat, and the other he stretched as far as he could go, melodramatically announcing his final clutch at life. Suddenly, his limbs went limp, and he lay inertly on the mattress. Laure removed the pillow with a smirk.

“Not even a blob? Now you'll really be hogging the bed all night.“ Laure sighed tragically. Flame Face’s eye snapped open to give her a bemused look.

“You’ll need to try a little harder than that, priestess. I am, amongst many other things, a fantastic actor.” He sat up and teased her by jabbing her forehead with his finger.

“That’s rich.” Laure layed back down continuing to grin, while Flame Face flopped down right beside her. Gradually, that smile began to fade as the voice in Laure’s head, her doubt, grew louder. How was she able to laugh with him while she was lying through her teeth? The growing silence seemed to reach out at her, wrapping around her with its tendrils of black.

Laure swiveled to her side, away from him, and drew her prosthetic out from beneath the covers, a faint blue glow illuminating her face as she glowered at it with contempt. Disgust. Before her very eyes, she was turning into a monster. It was in her blood.

Rachel was right. The entire school was. Her destiny was to become the very thing that had destroyed her life, and if the malaise was not stopped, she would destroy someone else’s. The thought of her putting another innocent person through the same hell she faced was almost overwhelming. Laure balled her silver fingers into a fist, trembling in anger. A voice cut through the agonizing silence.

“If you don’t stop shaking the bed, then neither of us will be getting any sleep.” She glanced over at him, trying to hold back the livid tears that were starting to glaze over her eyes.

Flame Face arched an eyebrow at her.

“I’m fine-” She started, but stopped, as her voice breaking betrayed her.

“Laure,…” His expression softened.

“Look, we’re a team, and...” He furrowed his brow, expression growing in perplexity. Flame Face came to the realization that, honestly, he had no idea what a team was. How could he? Laure was the first person he'd had a conversation with for more than five minutes in the last 250 years. Everything else had consisted of inanimate objects or rats that had found their way into the dungeon through the sewers. After living alone for so long, he had forgotten even his own name. Did he ever have one? He did now, so creatively named by... The priestess raised an eyebrow at him expectantly, waiting.

He looked into her eyes, winced, and turned away instantly, struggling to think as those spring-bound eyes gazed at him with all the intelligence and thoughtfulness in the world.

Flame Face cleared his throat. “Well, if we are going to fight together, you need to stop fucking around and be honest with me.” The words sounded harsher than he had meant them to.

“…” She looked askance, rolling over so her body faced the ceiling. She drew her hands together, fidgeting with them. Flame Face lowered himself back down and folded his arms behind his head again. As he began to close his eye, Laure looked at him and frowned.

“Is that what you want? A bedtime story?” Her voice was dry.

"Unfortunately, your voice is too agitating for something like that. If I wanted you to put me to sleep, I’d ask you to beat me unconscious.” He sneers, rolling his eye as he opens it.

“Is that still on the table?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Listen, I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know what's upsetting you. Now stop stalling and get on with it already, before your voice gives me a headache.”

Laure lets out a sigh. “You’re no fun.”

“Ironic.” He snorts.

She remained quiet momentarily, the only audible sound coming from her shaky breaths. Her unsteady voice grew clearer as she spoke longer.

"I grew up in a small village with my parents, where there weren't many children." She started, her words faltering as she tugged at the collar of the tight black shirt hugging her torso. Parents? Flame Face hadn't given her past much thought. Why would he? That had never been important before. After all, it had never mattered to him either. Sure, he was curious, but after repeatedly slamming into the walls of his mind for years, he gave up. He had shaken the magical locks that caged the answers to his past like the prison he had been trapped in for centuries, but every time, they only rattled in mockery at his attempts. It was like he was being blocked by a blurred piece of glass, where behind it, there was something vaguely familiar but… not quite distinct. Similar to trying to get a chokehold on butter, no matter how often you enclosed your hand around it, it would slip right through your grasp. Laure’s voice had grown in strength when she spoke again, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Um, I... had a wonderful childhood; you know, I really loved books and puzzles. I was more interested in them than in people, which worried my parents a little, but they didn't mind as long as I was happy.” Laure smiled sadly at her hands. Flame Face pictured her as a child with her nose buried in a book, contentedly engrossed in whatever fictional world she was immersed in under the shadow of a large oak tree. The thought made him smirk to himself.

“I remember one time, my parents were looking for me, and they searched all over the village only to find me reading a book, completely oblivious of the commotion I had caused.” A quiet laugh followed, soaked in sorrow. Flame Face felt a twisting sensation within himself. Compelled to say something, he spoke up.

“Gaining knowledge to join the guardians, eh? Good on you for starting young.” He attempted to lighten the mood, but when he caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, her smile was still weak.

“My mother was the strongest person I knew, and my dad was so brave." Grief began to sink his heart and sag his shoulders. It was rather depressing, really. His mind drifted over to thoughts of his own mother. Of course, nothing tangible was found. He stretched his hand out in search of a protective, maternal figure, but it closed around nothing—void, empty, nothing.

He wished he remembered her. He yearned for any memory—any touch—anything from his mother. An answer. Who was he? Where did he come from? Where was the guidance he should have had? He was supposed to know how to do things for himself, why didn’t he?

Flame Face began to feel guilty. In terms of chores, he hadn't exactly been the most helpful. He didn’t ask her to do all of those things. But… he did expect them of her.

The uncomfortably warm prison cell trapped him for centuries. A watery gruel would be carelessly tossed into the cell, splattering against the walls and floor, which he would either have to lap up like a mutt or starve in the body he possessed. After a long day of failing pathetically to escape, he would flop onto the warm, loving embrace of the dungeon floor. That was his life. It was all he knew: the smell of decay, fire, and death. He had received everything he possessed. It wasn’t like he could work for anything; he was simply a prisoner.

But now, he finally had the opportunity to do things. He wanted to help Laure in packing lunches and cooking breakfast, but he squandered the rare chance she gave him. Honestly, it angered him more than he let on. Flame Face should have known how to do these things, but he couldn't recall them. He found himself embarrassed by his lack of knowledge, which he definitely shouldn't be. Obviously, as the chosen one, he should be treated like royalty anyway, so doing those things was… expected of Laure.

But sometimes, when it came to battle, she would make him sit out because she didn't trust his abilities, which was humiliating. It infuriated him that she would always step in for him, denying him any chance to prove himself. He contemplated all the things she had done for him, actions that had only caused him embarrassment when he attempted them or faced rejection. His heartbeat became slightly louder in his mind, echoing and reverberating throughout his "skull." His heart stopped when he heard Laure’s next words.

"But that doesn’t do much when battling the malaise.” This time, he froze. It was like being stabbed by Middleus all over again, but he wasn’t used to the pain he felt here. Physical pain had become insignificant to him years ago. It didn't matter if his limbs snapped, twisted, or broke. He was used to it. But this? He was reeling. Nothing physical could even compare. He felt like the ground was being sucked from under him. He was sinking into the mattress, drowning, falling, freezing, like it was swallowing him whole. He had no power. He could not blink, he could not scream, he could not move. It was like watching her mutate into a zombie again, over and over, but he could only lie paralyzed. Helpless. Crushed. All this time, she had been suffering from the same ailment as her parents?

Laure clenched her teeth as she persisted. “They got worse every day, no matter how hard I tried. All of those books were useless. Me, useless for saving them.”

Before continuing, she inhaled deeply. “But one day, out of the blue, they popped up, like nothing happened. As if they were completely healthy. It didn’t seem right; inflated tissue and pulsing veins were still clear on their sickly pale bodies. But I wasn’t going to look too deeply into it; I was just thrilled to have them back.”

“That didn’t last long, though. I stood there and watched. I watched them eat each other.” Her twisting hands went rigid. “I watched the only family I had die.” They were shaking now. “It wasn’t enough; I should’ve warned someone. Perhaps I could have done more if I—"

This was becoming too much for him to bear.

“Laure!” He blurted. Her gaze quickly shifts to him, seeming surprised, like she had forgotten he was there, and she had randomly found herself in the same bed as a stranger. Perhaps she had once been a stranger to him, but never to her. Laure had heard too many tales of the chosen one to consider him a mystery. And here he was listening to the first story about her. Flame Face hadn't cried for a long time. He truly had no idea who he was. There was nothing to shed tears over, as it would never lead to anything meaningful. Least of all, why would he cry for someone else? She didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Nothing would change if she had died. Even if they spent every waking moment together since meeting, it had still only been a week or two.

But he knew that wasn’t true.

Why did he feel like he could spill out his insides right in front of her and nothing would change? Maybe because he already did. The guardians of truth seemed to understand him and his purpose, and Laure was no exception. She’d spent a significant amount of time around him put her life in his hands, and he did the same with her. Though, it's not like they actually had a choice. There wasn’t really anything he could hide from Laure, and besides, subtlety and patient mystery wasn’t his style. It was, in fact, terribly boring, if you asked him. So no, they weren’t strangers. And yet, Laure had decided to keep this from him, which he couldn’t understand. He propped himself up on one elbow, tears streaming out of his eye like ink.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Flame Face cringed when he heard himself speak. His voice was all broken and tragic-sounding. Gross. Shame burned through him, but when he met Laure's eyes again, it disappeared like ash. She stared back at him awkwardly before looking away.

"I guess it just never seemed important." She muttered, shielding herself from the sight of his hypnotizing flame. Melting his insides like molten iron, Flame Face felt a stab of rage and sympathy. Not important?! Is she stupid?! This was the most important thing to hide from him. Did she think her problems didn’t matter? Did she think he wouldn’t care? How completely ridiculous. He was not some sort of heartless monster. Flame Face was an absolute master at caring. Watch.

His touch graced Laure’s forehead. Immediately, he felt all the spite melt away. His heart, reanimated from his overtaking of the body, started slamming against the prison of his ribs. It was like his body had been possessed by two people. His brain, lungs, and heart were beating, breathing, and spinning twice as fast. Is that why they called it a ribcage? The sensation made him dizzy, but he simply could not get enough of her. As softly as he could, he brushed the hair out of her eyes before pausing. Cautiously, he placed his entire hand on her face, trailing down before halting at her cheek. He began to gently caress it, observing as her jaw lowered and her body relaxed deeper into the mattress while eyeing his hand warily. He gently dragged his thumb over her lips. Soft, albeit chapped. Upon seeing the torn flesh, his heart began to sink. He was careful to pass over that part so it wouldn’t sting. Flame Face felt a sharp exhale from her nose, prompting him to look up and meet her eyes. He could see so many emotions flashing within her steel exterior, including contentment, tranquility, grief, confusion, worry, fear, surprise, and hurt. He tried to describe the tense, suspended feeling in the air. A hint of discovery was slowly making its way out of the hidden corners of their hearts. There was something here. Was it good? It felt good. Was it bad? He was unsure. There was doubt that clung to his mind, like someone had poured tar over his brain. Flame Face felt no genuine remorse, yet the concern that surfaced was solely focused on Laure. What was she thinking? Had she been struggling with her feelings too? Did she feel the same way? Maybe she could help him. He winced at the idea. It wasn’t just his pride. He had to conceal the secret heart he held.

He couldn’t do it just for himself. It was also for Laure. The fighter that she was. She endured his shit and got this far. If he said anything, he would distract her. Even if it was difficult to admit, he certainly hadn't been making things easier on her.

He wished he could, though. Flame Face wished she would let him help. He wished he could make her feel as happy as she made him. Just once. Perhaps then she would recognize his genuine worth, if she gave him a chance. Maybe she’d understand better. She wouldn’t have to, though, if it wasn’t for the malaise fucking her over--why her of all people?!

None of this was fair. She didn’t deserve this. It was unjust. All of what she was going through never had to happen if that bastard of a king had done something about it all. But now, it was time for them to pick up his slack. He was the chosen one, and this? It was his job now. Flame Face put his other hand on her cheek, the hold he had on her face tightening slightly, with small dents forming on her cheeks where his fingers pressed.

“Laure, I promise you, until the day you kill me, I will make sure that no child will ever again be orphaned by the malaise.” His face was so close to hers that he felt her breath hitting his flame. His heart was thumping in his chest, getting lodged in his throat. Biting back a sob, he lunged forward into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her and burying his face in her neck.

This action seemed to reanimate her, as she hesitantly wrapped her arms around him and sat up with him. Her hands began to worry against his taut muscles. Laure patted his back uneasily.

“I’m fine, Flame Face.” She finally grunted and peeled him off of her, despite his continued tears.

“But... thank you. It... means a lot to me that you care.” She glanced away. “I’ve never really... had something like that before.” He frowns.

"Never?" He sniffled and then recoiled as he heard his whimpering voice. Flame Face cleared his throat.

“What do you mean, never?" Who in the world had been raising her? Did the guardians even care about her? Laure shook her head slowly. While Flame Face was no parenting expert, he was fairly certain you should care for your child, adopted or not.

“Well, since… My parents... you know, they decided my blood was... impure.” Laure let out an exasperated sigh.

"I can't do anything. I can't go on missions; I can't even pass this stupid school. I just… Do chores and go door to door.” She looks up as if she’s surprised he’s still listening to her, then flashes him a wry smile.

“That’s why this is... a nice change of pace.”

He blinked, taken aback. He shifted his attention to a spot of tangled comforter next to Laures's crossed legs. Change of pace? Had their journey really been much different? Well, maybe, despite all of the teasing he put her through and the preparation for their adventure, he could imagine the world of difference she faced. She finally got to make a change, lead the chosen one to fulfill the prophecy, and maybe when she did, then finally she would receive the care that the other guardians never gave her. Flame Face felt a stab of pity.

He turned his fixed look up to meet her dark, glittering eyes, reflecting the pink hue that his fire cast. Her bulky form, still as broad as ever, appeared worn, and the fatigued look in her eyes reflected a sense of defeat. It was strange to see her in such a manner. The Laure he had become accustomed to was a bright-eyed warrior who survived with hope in a wasteland of pity and despair. Even she had somehow managed to make him think twice about his cynical view. So seeing her in such a state felt... abnormal.

Flame Face carefully removed his hands from his sides and laid them upon the mountains that were her shoulders. Strong. Firm. Built for carrying the weight of the world. The hills of her arms, her biceps, tensed as he slid his hands down them. They then glided down to her own and rested in the valleys that were her palms.

She gazed at their clasped hands, before turning to face him and offering him a sheepish smile in the darkness. Had Flame Face been standing, he was certain his knees would have been weak. If he fell, Laure would have caught him. Like always.

Her fingers began to seamlessly intertwine with his, akin to the final missing piece in a puzzle. This was the first time he had felt her raw touch. The cool, glowing metal pressed against his organic fingers. He felt her warm, smooth skin brush against his, forming an intimate connection that nearly rocked him to his core. Her hands were soft and gentle, weavers of nests fit for birds and yet blacksmiths of blades made for war. He could trace the little calluses that adorned her fingertips, committing their form to memory. His breath caught in his lungs as he caressed them. Flame Face’s heart was thrumming, singing, skipping in his chest, pumping some sort of fizzy liquid through his veins. It buzzed through him so jovially that he shivered in glee. He never knew he could care so much for someone, but now he couldn't imagine a version of himself who didn't want to give their entire self just to see that charming, awkward smile of hers.

They continued to sit together, holding each other's hands, sharing looks that communicated words the both of them were too scared to say. He felt cozy and secluded. In this little secret place of theirs, they were alone and safe. In fact, he had never felt anything like it. It was different from knowing he couldn’t be hurt. Instead of a nonchalant shrug at death, this was a comfortable embrace, shielding him from the outside world. Their walls concealed the world's despair. Eventually, When Laure's head sagged forward into Flame Face's chest, he was startled awake from his half asleep daze. When he saw what had alerted him, his heart nearly exploded.

A voice in his mind spoke up. What if she was just tired or grieving, and he was the first source of comfort she could find? That this… He swallowed hard, noticing the closeness between them. Suppose it was—fake? He shook his head slowly so as to not wake Laure up.

Well, that would be a pretty stupid way of thinking. Why would she expect him, of all people, to be interested in her life? He had clearly made a shallow impression, as evidenced by her surprised reaction when he stayed to listen to her. He paused, feeling the gentle touch of her cheek against his chest. He felt her breath whistle silently out of her nose, as if blowing away the snowball of anxiety that was burying him. He smiled softly to himself. No one who held such low regard for him would allow themselves to come this close. She had trusted him to listen and to care. And even if she did think that (which would be incredibly incorrect, by the way), he had just proved her wrong. Boom. Take that, Laure. He would have swelled with pride if not for the sleeping beauty resting against him. He glanced back down at her.

Normally creased with concern, her forehead was smooth. In fact, this was the most peaceful he’d ever seen her. His anxious, brave companion, vulnerable now in the hands of someone who could not be killed. It felt strange to see someone he looked up to leaning upon him. Perhaps she didn't realize it, but finally, in the end, he was the one supporting her. He was the one to catch her. Flame Face leaned down, arching and curling his back while resting his head on hers. His hands hung limply by his sides, still holding her own. She trusted him. He knew she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Neither of them did. But this—she didn’t need to do this either. Therefore, he was going to protect her. Laure had done so much protecting already. She had protected him from the royal knights, prevented his death in the prison, and safeguarded her heart to ensure no emotions interfered with the mission. Well, now it was his turn. At that moment, she was his guardian of truth, and he would gladly be her chosen one.

He remembers when the malaise poisoned her protection. The dull skinned, hulking zombie roared in fury and grief, hoping to alleviate its own pain by inflicting it on others. Her once intelligent green eyes were toxic emeralds that glittered like cursed gems. She slumped back to the lab floor with a thump, saliva dripping from her maw.

The monster bellowed in an echo of its former self. It charged, slamming into him and closing its iron fingers around his arms. He was pinned to the ground, brain on autopilot. His hands fumbled for the button on her arm, while the adrenaline pounded in his body like a drum as he spoke. None of what was happening had felt real to him. It shocked him more than it should have to see his guardian and protector suddenly become a rabid beast seeking to tear him apart.

With a shudder, he pulled her to him and squeezed her hand to comfort himself. She was here, and he wouldn’t let her die. Not to something that she fought so hard to end.

Carefully, he let go of her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist. Like a princess from a fairy tale, he laid her back on the bed and leaned in close to her face. Each ridge, pimple, and freckle became visible to him. Flame Face pulled back, restraining himself from staying awake to study and memorize her features just to keep seeing her when he closed his eye. He struggled to resist the urge to count each and every wrinkle that would appear when he teased her. Personally, he liked all the little imperfections and scars that laced her skin. It made her more regal and imposing, like the truest knight. Flame Face couldn’t help but feel disgusted at himself. He was terrified. Exhilarated. This shouldn’t have happened. He was immortal. Why had he gotten so attached? To a peasant of all people. How had he let this happen? Where had he gone wrong? How could he be so... smitten? by her of all people? She was a peasant. She was lucky to even talk to him! And here he was lavishing his affection on her as if she were his tender, tragic lover. It was embarrassing. He should be ashamed.

So… Why wasn’t he? Why did he still yearn to explore every corner of the world that he had never ventured into, with her hand firmly in his?

His stomach churned. If he really did want that... Why was she even here? Their goal was his death, and here he was, wishing for a future where they could roam foreign lands, discovering and exploring—together. He tightened his grip around her waist, as if squeezing her would release all the doubtful thoughts that plagued his mind.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. Even if they—it wouldn’t work. She was mortal and had a finite amount of time left. Everything she went through mattered. Her passion for life was so intense that it almost broke his heart to imagine a Laure devoid of drive. Her will was part of what made her, her. Immortality would rip that away, shred her spirit, and tear apart her dreams.

When you knew you were gonna die, you lived to the fullest. Your choices mattered for the future generation you will never see. Laure could enjoy every second because she never knew when she would have it again.

Flame Face could only mimic that with her. He could savor each moment with her to the utmost, as he never knew when she and her ephemeral body would leave him. It’s why he had to learn to be extra careful when going on missions rather than just jumping in on a whim. It’s why she had to teach him (begrudgingly) combat that would protect his vitals better than his previous techniques.

Ironically, death was a persistent thought in both of their minds. Flame Face would remain immune until Laure pierced his heart with the Sword of Truth, freeing him from the centuries-long immortality that had imprisoned him in the world. Laure, especially with her now plagued existence, had to continuously refill her prosthetic with dead cells, lest she succumb to the malaise. Not only that, but mortals were fragile. One wrong step, and Laure would be bleeding out from the wound on her side.

He knew she was just as strong and capable as him, but she was still human. Regardless of how armored, skilled, or tactful, she didn't have an immortal form like his own. And knowing that was practically enough to kill him.

He hadn't felt so alive since he'd met Laure. Flame Face was a prisoner in the dungeon, struggling aimlessly and ending up in the same place every day. He was only half the person he was now, and if he lost Laure, he would be even less.

He shut his eye, allowing darkness to fill his field of vision. So deep was the silence that only the soft beat of their hearts could be heard. His and hers were connected by a thread of affection, bitterness, sorrow, and strife. And even through all of their issues, Flame Face felt he had achieved a new kind of understanding with Laure.

Knowing what he knew now... Their stories... They weren’t as different as he had initially thought. They were both outcasts, orphans, lost souls, searching for a purpose deeper beyond what they had been told. Flame Face felt a guilt worm in his stomach, thinking about all the times he had made the journey needlessly difficult for Laure. He would blame her when things went wrong and criticize her for the slightest inconveniences, but really, she was trying her best.

And what had he done? Just make things worse.

Flame Face cautiously lowered his body without letting go of her waist, taking care not to wake her up. He grabbed the covers and draped the blanket across their shoulders.

Despite all the hardships and challenges, he found happiness. He didn't need to consider the possibility that they might not be able to spend the rest of their lives together or that he didn't truly want to die, because he felt safe where he was; with Laure. That gave him hope. Normally, Flame Face wasn’t one to believe in fate or destiny. Honestly, he still found the concept of being the chosen one somewhat strange. He hoped that by proudly announcing his title, he would in turn feel worthy. But he still couldn't shake that feeling of… being undeserving. It made him wonder why he, of all people, was the chosen one, because honestly, if he had to pick anyone to save the world, it would be Laure. She was stalwart, selfless, brave, and strong. Everything she did had heart. From the way she departed her leftover meals for the wildlife to the way she would fight as if the whole world depended on her. Well, it did, but even if it didn't, she would still put her entire self into it. Laure was unlike anyone he’d ever known, and he was learning a lot from her. She was teaching him about the world and about himself. Looking back at how they were when their adventure had just started, they’d come quite a long way. In fact, he felt like a different person since meeting her. Though they were very different people, they somehow matched each other perfectly. In spite of it all, the pair was able to find peace in such a bizarre, desolate place, between the two of them.

It was all new to him. Even though it was intimidating to face, he wasn’t alone. He relaxed, breathing deeply, allured by the warmth Laure’s body wafted upon him. Flame Face was certain there was a specific term for the sensation he was experiencing at the moment, but it escaped his mind. As he pushed the constant chatter of his brain away, his breathing slowed. Flame Face buried his face in the nape of her neck, keeping his arm hooked around her waist. The tantalizing smell of her hair was more than enough to put him back to sleep. Before the gentle exhaustion completely submerged his mind, he imagined Laure's beaming grin at him. He hoped tomorrow he could see it again.