#his precious heirs and carries a lantern each time he touches the dark

[ketavinsky]

i have a huge admiration for writers who can make characters and plot out what theyll do, why they do it, who theyll become. looking at some of the epiphanies ive come across in the past 3 months with my own lore i realise ive just been planting the seeds of what they are, trying to figure out why they do the things they do, and then getting hit by the realisation like a sledgehammer when they choose

[realmwrites]

Promises

[ read on ao3 ]

GerAme Week - My Sidekick

The lanterns hang low from the rafters, dusty white light illuminating what the yellow moon peeking through the slatted roof cannot. The stars spread like a patchwork of white thread against the sweep of midnight blue, and Alfred stands fixed like a galaxy painted bright and catching across his world. His blue eyes, warm in a way distinctly his own, flash in the dimness, and he runs a hand through his hair, pushing back his hair from his tan face. Ludwig shifts uncomfortably, moving his gaze towards the door. This is a mission, not a daydream.

“Alfred,” He says. The guards remain silent, their backs turned towards the two of them. “Alfred, we’re running out of time.” He slips into German. “We can’t wait for them all night.”

“You know we can’t just leave.” He replies in the same tongue, his volume conversational. “We need them on our side.”

German sounds brighter coming off Alfred’s tongue. The sound coils in Ludwig’s gut, warmth blooming in his heart, but he ignores the fluttering sensation and raises his voice from a whisper. “I know, but the others- They’re counting on us to be on time.”

“We’ll be on time because you’re here. You’d die before you were late to anything. Besides-” Alfred slaps his hand on his shoulder, his hand lingering as it traces down his arm like firebrands on his skin. “-when’s the last time we got a chance to be alone?”

“Not since back south. You’ve been busy since.” He tries not to look disappointed when Alfred pulls away, smiling.

“Exactly. But now here we are.”

Ludwig stills, frowning at Alfred in the darkness. His head is dropped against the wall, his tan neck bare to the world and his broad shoulders slumped in relaxation. Still, there’s an anticipation to his bearing, and as his eyes flutter shut, Ludwig can sense he’s itching to speak. He debates on how to ask for his thoughts as the silence weighs, but with him, it's always been different. Ludwig can never be certain.

Alfred opens a single eye, a brow cocked in question. “If you keep frowning like that, you’ll get wrinkles in your pretty face by twenty-five.” He arches off the wall in one smooth motion and steps towards Ludwig. “Maybe you should try something more relaxing for once.”

“Like what?” He sputters.

“I don’t know. Like kissing me instead of just staring?” Alfred shrugs noncommittally, but there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice.

It feels like a rusted knife slipping between his ribs because it's true. He wants to. He does, but this thing they have is so strange and thrilling and terrible and wonderful and beautiful and so very fragile all at once, and he doesn’t trust himself not to ruin it all. Not after every time he’s almost torn them apart. Not after every little doubt whispering at the back of his mind. Not after seeing Alfred’s easy grin at the base and feeling his ghosting fingers on his wrist at quiet dinners. Not when it means risking everything. So maybe it’s fear. Maybe he’s just a coward, but Alfred’s right. It’s well past time to stop hiding in the shadows.

“Alfred…” He starts, but Alfred silences him with a finger to his lips.

“If you’re just going to give me excuses, I don’t want to hear any more.”

He straightens as Alfred’s finger falls and struggles to keep his voice steady. “You want to know why I haven’t kissed you?” His brow draws downward, his heart thudding hard in his chest and his fingers clenching into fists at his sides.

“I don’t know. Are you ashamed because I’m inhuman? Is it because you still see me as a goddamn monster?” Alfred’s face has gone edged, the traces of hope and fear mixing up visibly on his face for just a second. “Are you scared of what they’ll say if they see us together?” It’s too long.

“No, you’re better than me.” Ludwig’s heart stutters in his chest, his ribs clenching around the words. “You’re- You’re you. You’re Alfred Jones.”

“Jones.” The word slides like venom off his tongue. It’s not aimed towards him, but his pulse still races faster at his cutting tone. “You know that’s why I was drawn to you at the start. You didn’t know about Jones, not the weight the name carries, not the money, not the glory, not Alfred Jones, the heir, the demigod, the promised. Pulling the shit you did was suicidal. You didn’t know, but you were burning. You were alive, and you had conviction. You’re still burning, but that fight's done. Now what? Ludwig, why are you really still here if we can't even touch without you running? Why are you so fucking scared of me?”

“I’m not scared of you. I promised you I’d stay. I swore it. Alfred-”

“Don't stay for promises and honor. I’m not some prize to fight for. I'm not something precious to protect.”

“I know. You’re stronger than me. Alfred, I'm here to fight by your side.”

“Please. Stop being a soldier and be human for once. I’m tired of you skipping around what you’re really feeling all the goddamn time. I just want to know what you fucking want.”

Ludwig recoils internally. The truth hits like an anvil, but Alfred voicing them in his bright voice, in Ludwig's own language, mere inches away, hurts more. He presses on, his heart rending as the gravity of what he's led Alfred to believe soaks like blood to his skin.

“I haven’t kissed you because you’re too good for me, and if I did, I- I wouldn’t be able to stop.” He feels like he's bared his soul to Alfred when he's already handed him his heart. “You are… the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re strong, brave, bold, wonderful, genius, kind. Perfect. Many other things- I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you. You do things to me I’d forgotten I could feel, but you’re right. I’m not a good man, and you deserve so much more.”

A silence stirs between then until Alfred speaks.

“Ludwig, you’re the most genuinely fucking good person I’ve ever met. Misled in the beginning, yeah, but…” Alfred frowns. “So you have wanted to kiss me then.”

“Of course I’ve wanted to. Every time you look at me.” Ludwig whispers, his voice hoarse.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He says.

“Alfred, I’m not beautiful.” He flushes down to his neck.

“Yes, you fucking are. You’re beautiful. You’re stubborn as hell, crazy brave, way too fucking smart, but you’re so good. You’re too good to me, and yeah? Yeah, you make me feel like I’m on drugs all the damn time, and yeah, every time I look at you- me, too. I’ve wanted to take your beautiful face in my hands and kiss you since that first night by the bay.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

Alfred steps up, bringing them chest-to-chest. Ludwig can smell the scent of wood smoke and warm pie Alfred carries beneath the sweat and grime the streets pile on a man. He can see his lashes against his cheeks every time he blinks and feel their foreheads nearly brushing.

Alfred looks him straight in the eye, cupping his cheek with one hand. “I’ve tried, but every time you pull away, so I stopped. I thought you still hated me deep down. You know you don’t talk much? You’re so damn hard to read.”

“Do I look that angry?” Ludwig mutters, his thoughts scrambled as Alfred’s warmth seeps into his own skin. Alfred is his sun- life-giving but dangerous, and when he'd tried to stay away, he’d always wandered back beneath Alfred’s warm rays.

His eyes light on Alfred's lips, pursed to his front. It would be so simple to lean in and kiss him. He’s imagined it a thousand times, dreamed of it a thousand more, but some invisible force seems to stop him as the opportunity presents itself.

“Sometimes. But hey, tell me, Ludwig, have you ever been kissed before?” Alfred leans in, his breath tickling his ear as he murmurs in soft, caressing tones.

“Of course.” He huffs softly, his hand finding Alfred’s arm, unsure of what to expect.

“But it was you, wasn’t it? You kissed them?”

“Yes.” Ludwig breathes as Alfred moves back, his blue eyes fixed solely on him.

“I think we should change that. What do you think?” Alfred hums and slides his hands down to Ludwig’s hips. His touch tingles across his body, setting starbursts off in his mind and burning holes in his reason.

Ludwig’s heart stops in his throat. It shouldn’t be like this. They should be out on a mountain lake, the heavens reflected across the glassy water and the moon a clean white. They should be far from this war and this mission and these impossible attempts at survival where few have succeeded. Alfred deserves so much more than a dirty warehouse and the tension of higher-ups conversing in the next room over. He deserves someone so much better, but he’s chosen Ludwig, a defected enemy footsoldier, and touched him with more than just his confidence and his swagger. Alfred touches him like he’s priceless, like he’s worth more than every precious stone beneath the earth, like Ludwig could speak and he would unquestioningly follow, like Ludwig is the only person in the world.

He rests his hands on Alfred’s shoulders.

“Kiss me,” he says. Even if this can never last. Even if nothing makes sense anymore. Even if you make me feel like I’m burning. Burning but happy. Happier than I’ve ever been before.

Alfred kisses him.

His lips catch his, and his hands slide behind his thighs. It feels like the starry night is reworking itself through his mind, a thousand stars dying and birthing at each brush of Alfred’s hands over his legs. Before he can think, Alfred has picked him up, his lips smiling against his and a breathy sigh escaping him as he tugs him against him. Ludwig flushes deeper, too aware of Alfred’s smiling lips on his, the scent of homemade pie on his skin and the touch of his hands on his thighs lifting him around his waist. He loops his arms around Alfred's neck and hooks his ankles behind him, giddy at the sensation of Alfred at his chest, at his legs, at his lips. Of Alfred as his everything.

“Ludwig.” Alfred hums against his lips, the syllables sweetened with the tone of intense adoration, and Ludwig falls all over again. He’s too good for Ludwig. Too beautiful. Too bold. Too bright.

Ludwig exhales against him, making no complaint as Alfred walks them against the wall. He runs his hands through his hair and lets Alfred envelope him. Every touch, every breath; he’s drowning against the heated, swollen lips of a godling prince, but this is what he’s wanted all along.

Alfred lingers, pausing in his movements.

“Jones.” Someone clears their throat behind them.

Alfred turns slowly, loosening his grip on Ludwig's thighs.

Ludwig unhooks his ankles and slides down to his feet, Alfred's hands still resting on his ass. He blinks as Lukas Bondevik comes into focus and immediately, stumbles back, his hand brushing back his disheveled hair and a deeper flush rising to his cheeks.

“Glad to see you found a way to entertain yourselves.” Lukas deadpans.

Alfred grins, slipping his hand in Ludwig’s back pocket. He marvels at Alfred’s easy recovery as he himself stands beneath Lukas’ exasperated gaze and wishes the earth would swallow him up and never again let him see the light of day.

“We sure as hell did,” Alfred says with still too much composure for a man who’d been kissing him senseless mere seconds before. “Are we ready to leave?”

“Ready enough,” Lukas waves a hand and turns sharply on heel, a fond tiredness soaking through his tone. “I’ll meet you two outside.”

Ludwig watches him go, still mortified, but before he can voice any shock or admonishment, Alfred is leaning over to kiss him chastely on the lips before striding off towards his mentor.

“Come on! We’re going to be late.”

Ludwig pinches the bridge of his nose and hurries after, wondering what in the world he’s gotten himself into.

Oh well, he muses. Some things were worth this kind of humiliation, and Alfred and his impossible, burning lips were two of them. He picks up his pace.