Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all sounds so absurd...

So unbelievable that you might even accept it as true.

Who am I?

Why do you want to know?

Ah, of course...

I'm someone who stands out, aren't I?

Well, I used to be a bandit.

And not just any bandit.

The leader. The Peacemaker.

Everybody feared me.

Everybody.

Except him.

Him .

A bitter smile escapes me.

To think that I, Chris Smith, the cutthroat, the monster, the bloodthirsty, was convinced I didn’t even have a heart.

And look at me now, sitting like a sentimental fool in a barren, desolate valley, shivering under the lashings of the approaching winter.

I feel a strange tingling in the corners of my eyes.

I thought I had no more tears to cry.

I beg your pardon, surely you are asking yourselves what’s the point of all this.

Are you in a hurry...?

No?

Then, sit here beside me.

Let me tell you the story of the man who changed my world, and my life.

But to do so, we have to go back about a year, when these lands still stood on the shoulders of a powerful man, who only needed the blink of an eye to decide a boy's life.

He is indeed the protagonist of this story.

His name was Adrian.

********************************************************************************

He was about eighteen years old, and he was cheerful and carefree.

A sunny smile always shone on his face, and made the day of those who met him lighter.

He never let adversity get him down, even though there had been so many in his life.

As soon as he had begun to speak he had found himself alone, for his mother had disappeared overnight, while he had never known his father, and the neighbors had become his family.

Yet the child had not given up: rolling up his sleeves, he tried not to be a burden on those who had taken him in, and as soon as he was old enough to do so, he began working to contribute to the expenses that burdened them.

Clemson Murn, the man Adrian called father, had a tailor's workshop and assigned Adrian to deliver goods and buy raw materials; riding his faithful VigilanteMobile, a superb white-coated Lipizzaner, he traveled the length and breadth of the island until he knew it like the back of his hand.

Those rides were the only moments when the boy removed his mask and let his smile wane, while a pensive pout darkened his face: he let his thoughts wander free, the questions that crowded his head come to the surface, and the doubts that devoured him slowly to manifest themselves, abandoning himself to them completely.

Then, when VM took the village path, his heart was clear again and his smile could shine once more.

However, no matter how sociable and generous he was with everyone, he was always alone.

When he wasn't working or helping his parents, he was completely estranged from village life, preferring the company of a book or a ride to the company of his peers.

He wasn’t considered arrogant or self-centered, though: he was a little weird, but he could not stand abuse, injustice, or suffering, and he never refused his help if anyone needed it.

He simply had not yet met anyone who made him want to show himself for who he was; no one had ever approached the heart he jealously hid behind a kind smile.

But he was fine just the same.

That was until the day his life changed dramatically: the world he knew collapsed, and with it the façade he had been struggling to build all those years.

He had to leave the village, the lands, and the hills he had grown up on to try to survive something that had already been decided for him.

He jumped on VM and planted his spurs in her side, to make her gallop faster, as he left behind his adolescence and broken dreams, without looking back.

Thanks to his retired life, he had no one to say goodbye to, no one to cry for him if something went wrong.

Nothing to regret.

He slowed his pace to admire a beautiful sunset: now he had nothing behind him, and he knew that even if he managed to save himself, he could never go back.

*****

It was a beautiful morning in late March, the air was still crisp, but the arrival of spring was beginning to be felt.

Adrian had gotten up early to go to the fabric market to pick out what was needed for the new collection.

He was wandering curiously among the colorful desks, and distracted as he was he crashed violently into the man in front of him.

"Excuse me," he said, smiling at him, and made to turn away, but the other grabbed his arm and turned him around, staring into the boy's big green irises with his cold, distant eyes that seemed to want to pierce him through.

Adrian shivered.

"What's your name?" the stranger asked in an atonal voice muffled by the black cape that wrapped virtually his entire body, leaving out only those feral eyes.

"A-Adrian Chase," he stammered, a little startled.

The man let him go abruptly, motioning him to move away, but in turning the corner Adrian felt his icy gaze glued on him again.

He spent the whole day trying to shake off that unpleasant feeling but failing.

That night at dinner, Murn, his father, noticed that he was acting strangely and asked him about it. As soon as he had recounted the strange episode, Murn slumped on the table.

"I knew it, I knew it would happen sooner or later, I knew it," the man kept muttering.

Finally, after taking a walk outside, he returned to the living room.

“Siit down," he ordered Adrian, "You're about to learn about your origins."

The boy stiffened: the moment of truth had come.

"Listen carefully, we don't have much time: they'll be on their way by now. The man you met at the market today is Gaius Grieves, the county lord's right-hand man. You must have at least heard of him, right?”

Adrian nodded, brow furrowed.

“Good. Rick Flag, our lord, is also your father. He is not only rich: he is powerful . He takes whatever he wants, without asking for it and without worrying about the consequences.

Sixteen years ago, he wanted your mother. And he took her, then forgot about her as if nothing had happened.”

Murn’s voice cracked and he looked away, while Adrian froze in place. What-

“While your father lives as if the world is his huge playground, however, there is someone behind him who fixes his mistakes,” the man started again.

“This someone is Gaius himself. Normally he just pays for the silence of Flag's victims, but your mother did not bend. For a variety of reasons, the incident remained secret for three years. Then, no one knows how, it came out. Gaius came looking for her, and she flatly refused to submit to dirty blackmail and especially to accept money from a vile man like Flag. So, they shut her up.”

Adrian gasped, hand going up to cover his mouth.
He had always known Murn was not his real father, for obvious reasons, but he’d have never expected such a tale.

“Fortunately, you were out playing with the miller's children, and when you came back I was already there and was able to spare you the discovery of the havoc they had wrought on your mother. They didn't know about you; to them, the violence had been a problem solved and forgotten. However, after seeing you today, I don’t think Gaius didn't notice how much you resemble your father. That's why you must run away.”

Adrian opened his mouth to protest, to ask-but Murn just lifted a finger.

“Now.”

All the fight left Adrian’s body, as his shoulders sagged.

He didn’t want to leave, not like that, not because an arrogant stuck up bastard’s life was worth more than his.
Murn, however, had already made the decision for him.

He reached into a vase and pulled out a leather satchel, offering it to Adrian.

“Take this money, it's all I have. And don’t turn back.”

Adrian was pale and his clenched fists were trembling.

His eyes were closed, and when he opened them salt water gushed from those green oceans.

"Why did you do all of this for me? You didn't even really know me, you owed me nothing, and still..."

Murn breathed deeply, then gave a sad smile.

"You should have been my son," he said simply, and Adrian could only dive into his arms, clutching his chest.

"I am," he answered.

It was the last time he ever saw him.

*****

And Adrian galloped across the prairies, over mountains, forded rivers, and traversed valleys, always running, without stopping, his omnipresent smile now transformed into an empty mask concealing the fear that had invaded his heart.

Anguish gripped him, he tried not to think about what had happened and the blood coursing through his veins, but he ended up drowning in his scanty memories that mingled with Murn's revelations.

One evening he found himself wondering what had happened to him, if he was all right, if watching an unwanted child grow up instead of the great love of his life had hurt him.

As he moved farther and farther away from his county, the feeling of being watched became more and more insistent, but this time the discomfort Gaius’s eyes had caused him was entirely absent.

He felt more a kind of warmth, of strength, that made him happy.

He almost came to wish that there really was someone behind him.

One night he found out who it was.

*****

They had been on his trail for weeks.

One day, out of the blue, they had been summoned to the castle of the county lord, Rick Flag.

Without wasting any time, his right-hand man, a slimy and treacherous being, revealed to them that a young man, guilty of a serious crime against the count, had to be killed.

Once the corpse was brought back, they were to receive two bags of gold each.

Surely they were the best people to carry out the sentence: experienced cold-blooded killers, they knew the island like the back of their hands.

It would not have been difficult for them to spot a foolish and bewildered boy, all alone on a white horse, no less.

And so they had set out.

But it didn't sit well with Chris Smith, the Peacemaker, the man who cherished peace with all his heart and didn't care how many men, women, and children he needed to kill to get it.

It was strange that someone as powerful and intelligent as Flag would risk a war by sending a band of thugs not only armed, but also with less than friendly intentions, into the neighboring lands.

The guy could not have been just a petty thief.

Surely the matter was more complex than it appeared from the outside.

Therefore, as soon as they had caught up with him (as expected, it hadn’t been hard at all), Chris had ordered the others to stay out of sight and follow him, without him noticing their presence. 

Days had passed, and he would see that boy singing, smiling, sleeping...but also fidgeting, biting his lips bloody, wandering with a somber gaze beyond the mountains.

It was impossible for him to believe that such a person could have done any harm.

And the more time Chris spent with him, the more inexorably he was attracted.

One night, as he was keeping watch perched on a maple tree spreading his branches all the way to the bivouac the guy had set up in the woods, he heard a sound.

It sounded like a rumbling.

Chris looked at the sky: there was not a single cloud, so it was not thunder.

The sound came again, a little louder this time.

He put his hand close to his stomach, but he was not hungry, and the guy had just finished his own dinner: what on earth could it be?

Then, all of a sudden, he saw it.

A pack of wild wolves, hungry and ready to devour the unsuspecting guy.

He couldn't let that happen, not on his watch. The kid was his bounty!

So he strung an arrow on his bow, aimed and fired.

Bull's-eye.

After all, he had exceptional aim.

He kept hitting several, but then he realized there were too many of them and they were coming dangerously close to the bivouac again.

He said his prayers, promising that if he had gotten out of that horrible situation alive he would have stopped being a bandit and revealed his feelings to Adrian.

Yes, he knew what his name was.

How had he found out?

One day he was bathing in the river, and together with his clothes, he had also taken off the chain he wore around his neck, from which hung a beautiful locket.

Unable to resist his curiosity Chris had sneakily taken it and opened it, to find out what it was.

Inside, there was a picture of a beautiful woman and, next to it, a message: 

I love you and always will, Adrian.

Mom.

Anyway, back to that night.

Chris leaped down from the tree, brandishing his stick, and threw himself at the wolves, biceps bulging.

******

A prolonged howl woke the boy asleep by the fire.

He squinted his eyes slowly, then opened them both wide at the scene that presented itself to him: around his makeshift bivouac lay wolves .

Some were stunned, others pierced by long black arrows, but none of them seemed capable of harm anyway.

The few that still stood on their paws were bleeding and yelping in pain.

But most amazing was a human figure, with a stick in his hands, engaged in a furious struggle with what must have been the leader of the pack, given his size and strength.

The man’s eyes darted angrily as with an atavistic cry he hurled the imposing beast to the ground.

The wolves, recognizing the defeat, retreated into the woods.

At that point, the mysterious savior fell to the ground, but the impact was not painful: in fact, Adrian had caught him just in time, and now had his head in his lap.

His heart lost a beat, seeing what a state he was in.

His clothes were all torn and soiled with mud and blood, while here and there wounds and bruises emphasized the extent of the struggle he had engaged in with those beasts to save his life.

With clear difficulty, the man opened his eyes, fixing them on Adrian, who smiled sweetly at him.

"Thank you."

As soon as the bandit realized what had happened and the position he was in, he blushed furiously as he snapped to his feet like a spring, then scratched the back of his head with one of his large hands in obvious embarrassment.

"Don’t mention it, come on, I didn't do anything! I rescued you because...ah...because...you look like a rich kid, and I'm a bandit, the notorious cutthroat Chris Smith to be precise! The Peacemaker! You must have heard of me."

Adrian got back up, smiling at him again.

"Of course, I have, P! You’re a hero for the people of my town! Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor…protecting peace no matter the cost! You do come out a little misogynistic and sometimes racist, but no one is perfect.”

His expression fell.
“Anyway, you got it all wrong, man, I'm a fugitive, with no home or family left. I don't even have a life anymore. In fact, maybe it would be better for you to leave and forget you ever met me," he concluded, turning his back to Chris.

A heavy silence fell on the two, cause no one had the courage to resume the conversation.

Chris was confused by Adrian's words that he did not understand, and Adrian wondered why the big fool stood there without saying a word.

A rustling behind him, perfectly audible in the silence of the night, made the bandit turn around.

The guy had loosened his long tail of light brown hair, which now fell over his shoulders, shiny and silky, framing his pale, sad face.

Before the latter could say anything, he found himself clutched to his rescuer's strong chest.

"I don't care about your past,” Chris whispered to him, caressing his ear with soft lips.

"I already know who you are, Adrian." 

Adrian gasped and started flailing, trying to break free.

"Don't be afraid of me, please! My gang and I have been following you for weeks now, and not a day went by that I didn't look for the right opportunity to get close to you.

At first, I was just after the money offered by Count Flag for your capture, but then I saw you and-I began to want nothing more than to be a part of your life.”

Adrian stopped struggling and just stared at Chris with shiny eyes.
Chris took it as a good sign and continued, words flowing out of him like a roaring river.

“I’ve fallen in love with you, Adrian. I’ve fallen in love like a fool.

In love with your strength, your courage, your smiles, and your tears. In love with your eyes so changeable but so transparent that anyone could read what you feel inside. In love with your face and your silken hair. In love with your fragrant lips and with the songs you whisper to the wind.

In love with your tapered hands and your heart, which carries a weight that will crush you if you don't share it with someone.”

Chris brushed his fingertips on Adrian’s cheek.

“I don't want anything from you. I just want to give you everything I have, no matter how little it is. You are the only one with whom I would like to share the time I am given on this earth, and I don't care what or who is in your past. If you allow me to love you, I will make you happy, I promise."

One of Adrian's hands came trembling up to cover Chris’s.

A deep wound stood out on his chin, covered by a trail of now-clotted blood, that would probably remain with him forever, as Adrian lost himself in the star-filled gaze of the man who had just opened his heart to him, as his own slowly resumed beating.

Everything seemed intangible, suffocated, distant.

Maybe...

He suddenly came to his senses as soon as Murn's words echoed in his head.

It was impossible, he could not stay!

He had to leave, and right away, or risk losing the advantage he had laboriously gained.

So he lowered his eyes and made to withdraw his hand, but Chris intertwined their fingers, as a poignant smile softened his hard, marked features.

Chris gentle confidence made all of Adrian’s defenses crumble. He wanted him, desperately, and that was all he cared about at that moment.

Tomorrow would come, he was aware, but he found himself wondering if it was worth living it with a soul full of remorse and regret.

The answer from his gut was clear to him as he felt his lips rest timidly on Chris’s.

He had made his decision.

He encircled Chris’s neck with his arms, drawing him to himself as he carefully inspected the corners of his companion's mouth with his tongue.

Chris didn't let up, and with a groan, he granted him entry as he in turn invaded Adrian's with his own.

Their breaths merged, and their spirits intertwined for a time-dilated instant.

When they looked at each other again, gasping, the same flame shone in their eyes.

Chris pushed Adrian toward the makeshift cot beside the fire, and then sat astride him.

His large hands caressed Adrian’s flushed cheeks and moist, swollen lips, then moved down his chest, unbuttoning his white shirt.

Buttonhole after buttonhole, Adrian's pale skin seemed to glow under the moonlight, perfect and smooth, with sculpted and outlined abdominal muscles that only increased Chris’s desire. Not resisting any longer, the latter captured his mouth in another fiery kiss, before moving to his neck and licking away the drops of sweat that were beginning to run down it. 

Slowly he moved to his shoulder, nibbling on his collarbone as Adrian's long fingers entwined with his hair massaged his skin in a hypnotic motion that blended seamlessly with the moans interspersed with his name that his attentions were wrenching from him.

Then, when Chris's greedy mouth lingered on one of his nipples, Adrian’s moans became real cries, intensified by Chris’s hand slipping into his pants.

As Chris’s face reached his navel by plunging his tongue into it, the last garments covering the two lovers were urgently removed, to allow their skins to come into contact.

At last, at the end of his wanderings, Chris tasted with his tongue the flavor of Adrian, who arched up sharply from the intense wave of pleasure that had coursed through him like a lash.

This incentivized the movement of Chris’s lips, which began to slowly suck on Adrian’s cock, then increased the pace when he felt his hair being tugged as a voice broken with pleasure moaned, "Oh...yes...P...more...aah! Please..."

It did not take long for Adrian to reach the heights of pleasure as his semen exploded down Chris’s throat.

Licking his lips, Chris stared into his eyes and asked, "Do you want it?"

The smile he received in response to his words left no room for doubt, but to disperse any doubt, Adrian took his hand and began licking his fingers, sucking them greedily, one by one, spilling copious doses of his saliva on them.

When Chris pushed the first and then the second finger into Adrian's body, the pain was not so terrible, thanks to the fact that in the meantime Chris was tending to his newly hard dick with such commitment that it eclipsed anything else, but when the fingers became three Adrian bit his lips bloody to keep from screaming.

Chris decided then that it was best not to linger any longer, and lifting Adrian’s legs he slowly penetrated him.

Adrian cried out as tears ran down his cheeks.

"Don't worry, love, it'll pass in a moment," Chris tenderly whispered to him, covering his face with little kisses, "trust me, let go, relax, think that I love you more than my own life and I could never hurt you." 

Finally his words had an effect on Adrian’s body, who stopped fidgeting and began to move his hips toward him.

At that point, Chris did not hold back any longer and sank hard into that tight and wonderful body, simultaneously jerking his companion underneath him who was urging him to take more, harder.

Merged into one being, moving in unison as their voices rose toward the sky that was beginning to clear in the east, they came simultaneously in all-encompassing ecstasy.

With his last remaining strength, Chris grabbed the cloak that lay beside the bivouac and covered them both, then welcomed Adrian into his embrace and abandoned his head on his shoulder.

"I love you," he told him before drifting off to sleep.

He did not notice the love-filled look his companion gave him: in that look was the awareness of one who goes to meet his destiny with his head held high, giving up life for a pinch of illusory happiness.

Chapter Text

Everything seemed so perfect.

Chris and Adrian, Adrian and Chris, nothing else mattered.

Chris had sent one of his men, Abner Krill, to tell the count that they couldn't find Adrian Chase.

"He probably boarded and left the island," he had written in the letter that his best friend had been in charge of delivering.

Then, he had spoken to the gang about what had happened, concluding that he did not think it was appropriate to kill an innocent man just at the whim of a local squire who got his head up.

They were free to kill and rob whomever they wanted, without having to submit to stupid dictates.

And of course everyone had agreed with him.

For Chris, it was heaven.

Waking up with Adrian, riding together, talking about everything and nothing, laughing, making love....

Those were unforgettable days, etched in his memory.

One night Adrian told Chris his story, told him about his mother and what Rick Flag had done to his life.

In the end, all Chris could do was hold him close, covering him with kisses, hoping that he would realize through that gesture how infinite and unconditional Chris’s love was, and that it would help him get over what had happened to him.

Adrian was serene and seemed to become more beautiful with each passing day.

Chris could not believe such joy.

What had he done to deserve it?

He was a lowly bandit!

But he had kept his promise to Adrian: he wasn't stealing or killing anyone, and he had already started thinking about which of his men would have been best suited to replace him once he had left with Adrian.

Yeah, because he was never going to leave him.

He knew Adrian would have been safer off the island anyway, but he was going with him.

He couldn't leave the gang in the lurch, though!

After careful pondering, he decided that the best person was Abner, his friend since childhood, his right-hand man, the only one he had ever trusted in his life. As soon as he had returned from the meeting with Flag, Chris would have made the announcement.

*****

However, days passed and Abner did not return.

Chris began to worry.

What could have happened?

He did not rest at the thought that Abner might have been tortured, taken prisoner or who knows what else.

They decided to wait another day: if he didn't return, they would go looking for him.

In the meantime, they had reached the coast.

As they finished setting up camp, Chris noticed the absence of his love, so he went to look for him.

*****

He found him on the cliff, staring at the sea in which, in a riot of colors, the sun was slowly drowning.

"Adrian..." Chris called to him.

At the sound of his voice, Adrian turned around smiling at him and holding out his arms.

Chris knew he was going to remember Adrian like that forever: it was the last image he wanted to have of him.

The long light brown hair scattered in the wind, illuminated by the last flashes of light of the day; the large eyes the color of the purest emerald, which could easily lose Chris in their unfathomable depths; the plump lips, soft as rose petals, parted in yet another smile that ripped at Chris’s soul for the warmth he could convey to him; the pale skin that bore the marks of his love as if they were precious stones; the broad shoulders and long, shapely legs that clung to Chris in search of his closeness even during sleep; the perfect hands with which he drew Chris to him, to kiss him when he had something to make up for.

Adrian seemed like a fragile person, but Chris knew very well that he was not.

How hard he fought every day, how bravely he faced the mistrust, the thousand trials that life had subjected him to and continued to subject him to.

Chris knew that Adrian loved him, even though he never told him.

But he also knew that every time he opened his eyes, anguish made his breath catch: a person like him was not meant to live in the same place for a long time, to be constrained.

Adrian was a person who belonged only to himself.

He would give all he could give, but then what?

What would happen then?

Would he ever get tired of Chris?

Would he ever leave him?

Questions that were never answered.

All Chris had left of what they had were a few memories, and his picture that day at sunset.

Oh, it was like a picture.

One last picture of their happy moments before the tragedy.

*****

As Chris was about to run into his boyfriend's arms, a choked cry was heard.

Then an inhuman scream: "THEY'RE ATTACKING US! WE HAVE BEEN BETRAYED! HURRY, RUN FOR COVER!!!"

The two boys ran at breakneck speed toward the camp, from which rose a cloud of thick black smoke.

All around, swarms of black horsemen and archers kept pelting their tents with flaming arrows.

It was as if hell had opened wide in front of them.

Chris’s eyes sent flashes of lightning as he grabbed his faithful staff and was about to attack battle when he paled and stopped short.

Adrian approached him and made to ask what was going on when he saw a tear slide down his cheek.

Deeply shaken, he followed the direction of his gaze: on one of the black horses was Abner.

The same Abner to whom Chris would entrust his life.

The same Abner whom he trusted completely.

The same Abner to whom he wanted to hand over leadership of the gang.

It was not possible.

What made Adrian pale too was not the traitor who had mercilessly sold him out, though: next to him, in fact, was his father.

Rick Flag.

He had never seen him, but there was no doubt about his identity.

The same light brown silk hair, the same iridescent eyes, the same white skin, and tapered hands, the same lips.

He was his living copy.

Seeing him in front of him caused him mixed emotions; he hated him for what he had put him through, but he was also a son seeing his father for the first time.

There was no time to think, however: the soldiers launched their attack.

The bandits defended themselves well, with arrows and swords, but they were outnumbered and, definitely, not at the same level of preparedness.

After a few moments of bewilderment, both Adrian and Chris had recovered and began to fight furiously.

They could not lose that battle; there was too much at stake.

Darkness was approaching inexorably, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish the black knights from the shadows of the night.

Suddenly, Adrian found himself alone facing three opponents: he dodged one blade and parried another, but the third would have pierced him if a staff had not split the wielder's skull.

Chris smiled at him.

"I won't let them hurt you," he told him softly.

"Watch out, Chris!" shouted a voice to his right.

Chris turned, but he did not have time to duck, so he closed his eyes in anticipation of the impact with the arrow that was heading straight for him.

But there was no impact.

He opened his eyes: standing in front of him was Abner.

The latter smiled at him and then slumped to the ground.

In his back was the arrow directed at him.

Chris was immediately beside him, taking his friend's now cold body in his arms.

In a voice broken with pain, he asked him, "Abner, why? Why did you do that? Why did you betray us, get us slaughtered, and then..."

In a weak, slurred tone, the guy replied, "I love you, Chris...I always...have..." and his head slid back as his eyelids closed forever.

The pain was so great that the bandit did not notice the soldier behind him.

He did not notice that he was raising a large shield.

He felt only the pain at the base of his neck.

And then everything went black.

*****

Chris could see Adrian in front of him.

He was standing on a bridge crossing the river, riding VM.

His raven tail trembled in the cool dawn air.

Adrian’s eyes were sad and he looked tired.

Chris was calling him, and he wanted to go to him, but Adrian pushed him away with his gaze.

"I have to go," he told him in a sad voice, "I can't stay with you if I want to live."

Chris didn't want Adrian to leave him, and he begged him to reconsider, to take him with him, but Adrian’s gaze darkened as he froze his heart and reminded Chris, "I'm fine on my own, I don't need anything or anyone, I have to go away, far from here." 

So, Chris shouted to him that he was the one who needed Adrian, that he wouldn't be a burden if he had been allowed to go with him, but deaf to his every word Adrian spurred his horse and rode away.

It was a dream Chris often had, the first nights they were together.

That's why he was afraid when he woke up.

But Adrian was always there, with him, in his arms, and this time would be no different.

Still with his eyes closed Chris stretched out his arm in search of Adrian’s body.

But he did not find him.

He sprang to his seat, but his head was so dizzy that he had to lie down again moaning in pain.

At the sound of his groans, a little old woman struggled into the room.

"Oh, you’ve woken up, young man! Thank goodness..." she told him, relieved.

"Where am I?" Chris asked her increasingly confused.

"This is Mingelnist," she explained good-naturedly. "My husband found you at the edge of the woods. You were unconscious, and you had a bad wound in your abdomen, so we took you home and treated you. It took you almost ten days to recover, huh? You gave us a hard time..."

The only thoughts Chris could formulate were for Adrian, his love, his life.

How was he?

Where was he?

What had happened?

As if she had read his mind, the old woman added sadly, "It's a good thing you at least saved yourself..."

"What do you mean?" Chris asked.

"There was another wounded man among all those corpses, but unfortunately, for him, there was nothing to be done."

Chris tried to calm his heartbeat, to ask the last, fateful question.
"What did he look like?"

He held his breath waiting for the words that would decide his fate: "Well, a nice guy, you know? Definitely. More than one of the girls in the village cried over him. He had a head of light brown hair and eyes so green they looked fake, not to mention how tall he was…"

Chris fell to sit on the bed.

No.

No.

No.

Chris’s brain could not produce a different thought.

No.

There was nothing left for him in the world.

He had lost the only gift heaven had sent him.

He had let his sun go out.

But with it, he had also extinguished himself.

He couldn't tell if he was crying or raining, if the liquid running down his chin was saliva or blood coming out of the wound he had made by biting his lip.

He could no longer feel anything.

Adrian was dead .

*****

The old couple who took care of me until my full recovery did their best, but no one could ever give me back the happiness I had only been able to touch in the short time I had spent with Adrian.

Three months.

Maybe a little more.

I don’t know.

Time has always been an abstract concept for me, each day is the same as the previous one and the one that will follow it.

And now?

You may be wondering what I'm doing here.

Well, it's simple.

This is, or rather, was, the hamlet where Adrian was born and raised.

When I asked to see his grave, they gave me an earthenware urn.

They said their custom was to cremate the dead.

I almost laughed at the cruel irony of fate that prevented me from even seeing him one last time.

With the urn under my arm, I returned to his county.

The village was several miles away in the open country, so I was not worried that I still could not see it.

But the closer I got the more uneasy I felt.

Finally, I arrived.

The village was gone.

It had been completely razed to the ground.

All that remained was the rubble of a few hovels, piles of ashes and mud, desolation, loneliness, and emptiness.

There was not even a blade of grass left.

So I rolled up my sleeves and carefully cleared the whole area of debris and the remains of the village until it was simple earth, on which I then spread the ashes of my great love.

I will love him forever, you know.

And I will stay here and watch over him until my body can no longer move and I can leave peacefully, to join him, wherever he is. 

*****

The wayfarers restrained for a moment, looking at the person they had immediately framed as a crazy bum or at best a bandit who wants to rob us.

Now they felt a sincere admiration for that love so great that it transcended time and space, and a great tenderness for that strong but at the same time fragile and especially lonely man.

They smiled at him, getting up then to return to the inn where they had reserved rooms for the night.

One of them shook his hand cordially and asked, "Is there anything we can do for you?"

Chris gave a tugged smile and replied, "Tell my story, bring it to life in memory. That's all I have left."

Chapter Text

They had just turned the corner when a voice said, "Asshole!"

Chris turned sharply toward the owner of the voice, as the latter approached him, then lying supine at his side and closing his eyes.

Chris's fingers stroked his light brown hair, smiling.

"Why? What did I do?" he asked innocently.

The other sat up sharply, glaring at him with furious flashes in his green eyes.

“How dare you ask me what have you done, P! You made me die again !"

"Tragic love is more romantic, Adrian!" Chris protested.

Huffing, Adrian brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them.

"Maybe, but I find the real version romantic as well."

"Which one? The one where..."

*****

When the old woman had told him about the death of the guy with green eyes, Chris’s world had collapsed.

And so he had run away, crying like a desperate man and thinking that there was no future for him.

The old woman had told him where they had buried the body, and so he wanted to go there to say goodbye.

He had wandered around the surroundings quite a bit before he had managed to go into the clearing-cemetery of that village.

He had to decide what to say to Adrian.

At last, he finally believed he had gathered sufficient courage and strength and entered the circle of white tombstones, eyes searching for a clue to Adrian’s, until he located a very recent one, with moss dislodged.

There was another guy in front of that grave, though.

A guy sitting on his heels, tall no doubt, with disheveled, light brown hair and a black cloak.

Chris approached, wanting to know what kind of relationship he had with Adrian and possibly figure out if that tombstone was not his. 

He was only a few steps away from the guy when he stood up and said, "What took you so long?" before turning around.

His green eyes, set with the pearly glow of his face and his wonderful smile, hit Chris point blank, and so he fainted .

When he came to, he was in his arms, and Adrian told him what had happened.

He had killed his father, Rick Flag in battle, and liberated his county.

Being his direct son, all the people had loudly acclaimed his appointment as lord of those lands.

He had searched for Chris everywhere, but he seemed to have disappeared.

When Adrian had finally found him, he had not yet recovered, and so he had decided to leave him in good hands until he was well enough to travel and then go pick him up.

Chris, however, had misinterpreted the old woman’s speech and didn't give her time to tell him that Adrian was on his way.

Flag was the dead man she was talking about.

*****

"There, is that better?" asked Chris, kissing the tip of Adrian's nose.

"I don't understand why you have to change something every day," Adrian scolded him.

"Because if not, I get bored telling the same old, same old, and I need something to keep them busy while my guys raid their possessions!" Chris argued, and Adrian rolled his eyes.

“Let me repeat one more time that you really don’t need to do that, by the way. We’re doing pretty well, I mean, I’m the lord of the county-”

“Oh, stop it, you promised I could keep stealing from rich idiots if I didn’t hurt anyone and give money to those who needed it!”

They stared at each other, glaring, until Adrian sighed and snuggled up to him, kissing him in the crook of his neck.

"Do you want to waste any more time on this argument?" he blew inches from his skin.

"Because my next meeting is at sundown, so I had other ideas on how to spend the next few hours..."