Gosh, it's still unbelievable to me that we're here already! The second last chapter! Ahhhhhhhh.

-IMPORTANT -

I realise that I haven't explained this whole thing as well as I could have. This story is part one of the story, which will end next chapter. That is, Part 1 = 38 chapters. There is a part 2 coming, which makes the story a whole lot more interesting. It's a little inconvenient trying to write a series on Fanfiction. Archive of Our Own, which is my preferred site, has a function which lets you make a series and list the works in order. Really, if you want the best possible reading experience for this story/series, I would recommend using AO3. I will try my best on here as well, though.

There isn't really an easy way for you guys on here to find out when Part 2 will be up, unless I post another chapter on here acting as an announcement? I don't know, I'll figure it out.

Again, this does have a Tumblr; huntingthestarsandetc, where I post updates and bonus information on the series. Plus, while I'm working out the bare bones of Part 2, I am probably going to put updates there too. That will be one of the first places to hear about part 2, so please check it out!

-END OF IMPORTANT-

RECAP:
- the spy - Zev Batbayaryn - has been caught and imprisoned. He got mightily stomped on by Octavia
- Yao is once again in charge of the resistance, and many important other figures, like Octavia, Mohammed and Ayshe, now know about Lukas.
- The bounty hunters and such are still prisoners, Arthur is still sick, and Matthew and Alfred are aware of each others' presence now.

There are no warnings to give this time, but ppppppppppppppplllllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee review! it makes me so happy!

Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra
30th Maarch

Arthur groaned a little as he forced his eyes open. He honestly feared what day it was, at this point. He remembered only flashes of memory over what must have been the past few days. He recalled the rebels, trying to help him, in addition to screaming and some detached snippets of several conversations. Any time that he had felt close to consciousness, his body had protested, and he'd sunk into sleep again. He'd been awake only briefly what he hoped was yesterday. The others had tried to talk to him, but his muddled brain had refused to understand their words. He had ended up muttering in response, probably in his native Pyndaphian. Feliks had tried to talk to him in said language, but all that he had understood and remembered had been something about Alfred having been stabbed.

Now, though, his body finally seemed ready to let him remain awake for more than a few minutes at a time. He forced himself to sit up a little, rubbing at his neck when he felt a low, stabbing pain pass through it. He recognised the sensation; needles. He'd had something injected into his neck, clearly. Feeling his apprehension spike, he slowly lifted one hand up to his head. The wool cap which Colin had given him was missing. His rapidly greying hair was on full display. He could hear low murmuring somewhere to his left, and turned towards the source. Roderich was speaking to Gilbert, Feliks and Matthias in a low voice. Mei, Leon, Tori, Francis and Vash were sitting nearby, listening. Alfred, from what Arthur could see, seemed to be asleep, as were several of the others.

He looked around a little. They didn't seem to have a guard of any sort. He gave a low sigh. The noise was evidently enough to draw their attention. The moment that Mei saw he was awake, she let out a shriek, leapt to her feet and vaulted over several of their friends to get to him. Her hug nearly crushed his ribcage in, but he couldn't have ever held it against her. She was sobbing as she buried her face in his shoulder. He smiled, a little sadly, and hugged her in return.

"We thought you were going to die." She sniffled, drawing away and wiping her eyes.

Arthur smiled wanly. "No, I'm tougher to kill than that." He croaked.

"Clearly." Roderich said. He was scrutinising him. "How long have you had Chalydrantis?" Arthur sighed. He had expected this to come. He didn't even have to look at Roderich to know what he was probably feeling. Arthur was slowly dying of the same disease that had killed Roderich's mother, yet he had never gone to his friend for help. No doubt, Roderich was feeling a little betrayed.

Strange, he thought, I don't normally think of people as friends. I suppose he would be, wouldn't he?

Arthur did the maths in his head "About five years now." Roderich blinked in shock, and Mei's mouth actually fell open.

"Wha-? How is that possible?" Roderich asked. Arthur shrugged.

"I was diagnosed a few days after I turned 19. I wasn't able to afford any treatment at first, because I was so poor, so after a few weeks, I left my job and sought something which paid better." He made eye contact with Francis. This was part of what had broken down their friendship. "At first, it was slave-driving. After about six months, I turned to piracy instead." Francis broke eye contact first, looking away. "It's a profitable line of work if you do it right. I've always made enough money to continually buy medication." He said. "That's also part of why I kicked so many people off my crew a few months ago. I couldn't pay them all and also afford my stupid injections."

His crew were all staring at him, but they were nodding in understanding. Roderich spoke up again.

"The rebels have some Malthecs lying around. They had to give you two doses just to stop you from being on death's doorstep." He nodded a little, rubbing at his neck.

"Where is it?" Leon asked curiously. Arthur knew what he was referring to. Chalydrantis manifested in growths inside the body, like cancer did. In the case of Chalydrantis, unless you were in the very advanced stages, a person only had one. He sighed, before reaching up and tapping the top of his head.

"Right in here." he said quietly. Mei looked distraught at the news, while Leon looked like he was having a revelation.

"So that's why you have so many headaches." He said. Arthur nodded. The others were silent, before Yael rummaged around in her bag and retrieved a small mirror.

"Well, you do look terminally ill, at least." She said, handing it to him. He took it, and examined his reflection.

He resembled a corpse; he'd lost so much weight that his skin was pulled tight over jutting bones. His skin itself was ghostly pale and tinged grey. His eyes were sunken in and adorned with dark bags underneath (despite all the sleeping he had done recently). His hair was a mottled mess of grey and blond, and, as he noticed with a shock, his nails were covered in dark blotches. The disease was making itself even more obvious. He sighed and handed it back to her.

"I've always expected that I would eventually end up looking like this." He said, resigned. Mei saw his defeated expression, and jumped to reassure him.

"Everything will be fine, though! We can just find you more of that stuff, and you'll be okay." He smiled softly at her determination.

"Mei, my body's starting to grow used to Malthecs. It's like when you overuse antibiotics. Your body learns how to work around it. Normal Malthecs probably won't work on me for much longer than another year. It's already getting harder for it to repair my body." He gestured down at himself. "It only took two weeks off it for this to happen to me. It isn't helping as much as it used to. Not to mention, I doubt that the rebels would be happy with a criminal like me draining their likely limited stores of it." Mei was shaking her head, more tears budding in her eyes. He turned away. He didn't deserve the amount of care and compassion that she had for him.

"Besides," Vash said, tone sharp, "we probably aren't ever going to get out of this place. The rebels will never let us go." Arthur blinked, perplexed.

"Why not?" he inquired. Matthias cursed under his breath.

"I keep forgetting that you were essentially unconscious." He said. "We'll never get out thanks to Vash here." he jerked his head towards the blond, who scowled at him.

"Please. This isn't my fault, Matthias."

"If you had kept your little musings to yourself, they wouldn't be so paranoid about letting us go." Matthias spat back. Arthur was confused beyond belief. Matthias saw his bewilderment and sighed, finally deigning to explain. "The resistance has Lukas Bondevik, and likely his younger sister Emilia too." Arthur looked at them. "Vash figured that out when we tried to escape. If he had kept his revelations to himself, they would have probably let us go by now." Vash glared at him.

"I still don't think this is my fault." He muttered viciously.

"You tried to attack him!" Matthias exclaimed. Vash scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"I did not. I wasn't trying to attack him."

"Then what were you trying to do?" Matthias sneered back. Vash opened his mouth to reply, but didn't say anything. He closed it again, then shrugged. Matthias rolled his eyes at him. "Wonderful. The point is, given how much the little Bondeviks are worth, the resistance would not trust us to leave this place with that information. We are bounty hunters and pirates, respectively. They probably think, justifiably so, that our first move would be to report them and receive the reward." They were all silent as Arthur processed the information.

"To be fair, he is worth 55 billion marks."

"I know." Matthias responded. "I could buy my own fucking skyscraper with that sort of money." Arthur smiled a little.

"So, did anything else interesting happen while I was unconscious?" he asked.

"Oh! Well, Feliks and Gilbert were telling the truth about Alfred's brother after all. They actually ended up stabbing each other, by accident of course. Alfred's kinda down for the count now." Arthur looked over at the tall blond again, and noticed that his leg was heavily bandaged.

"Noted." He said.

"Also, that Lieutenant that we came here with? Tino fucking Vainamoinen. He took Berwald down without suffering a single injury." Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at Berwald, who was rubbing at a few small cuts near his eyes.

"Impressive, I must admit." He said. Matthias nodded.

"Yeah, he was awesome and terrifying at the same time." He said enthusiastically. Feliks was rolling his eyes.

"Even when he was threatening you at gunpoint?"

"Especially then."

Feliks sighed, looking fatigued by his friend's antics. Arthur, on the other hand, grinned. He was about to speak again when a jangling sounded from outside, and the doors of the container were swung open. A man walked in, and Arthur blinked in momentary shock. This must be Alfred's brother. He smiled at them a little, though Arthur noticed that he was nursing his temples a little. He noticed their stares and sighed.

"Yeah, I'm hungover, okay? Stop looking at me like that." Matthias cackled in amusement.

"What's going on?" Antonio asked. The man – Matthew, his name was, if Arthur's dodgy memory served him correctly – smiled a little.

"You guys are getting moved to a different cell block. You remember that I mentioned that you were ordered to be executed?" they all nodded, expressions sombre. Matthew clapped his hands together, looking delighted. "Well, the commander who ordered such a thing is no longer in power. Our proper leader is, and he knows that you guys are here. You aren't going to be executed, I can promise you that."

They all sighed with relief. Though they had been saved from getting executed, there had always still been a fear that they would be discovered and killed. It was good to know that that was no longer a possibility. They all stood and let Matthew handcuff them in a line, and all took a moment to appreciate the sunlight on their skin as they were escorted outside, where a truck was waiting. Arthur looked back, to see that Matthew had shaken Alfred awake. The blond, still looking a little groggy, was staring at his brother. Matthew hesitated, then approached the woman driving the truck, murmuring to her. She nodded, and started to load them into the back. Matthew and Alfred didn't join them. The woman saw his confused expression, and elaborated.

"They just want a few minutes alone." Arthur nodded, and relaxed on the seat as the truck took off.

Matthew ensured that the door was still open, and not about to shut and lock them both inside, and then slowly walked over to his brother's side, and knelt down beside him. They were both silent, just drinking in the sight of each other. Matthew bit his lip and looked away, unsure of where to begin. His brother seemed equally lost on where to start, and scratched at the back of his neck. That seemed to inspire him.

"So…uh, how's your neck? I'm sorry for stabbing you, by the way." he said, flushing a little as he said it. Matthew smiled a little.

"It's not too bad. I can't look sideways, but other than that I'm fine. Sorry for stabbing you, too." He said. "You still can't walk on it?" Alfred gave him a dubious look.

"It's been like 3 days. No, I can't walk on it." Matthew laughed at the grumpy look on his brother's face, and shot him an apologetic look.

"Should've guessed, yeah." He murmured. They fell silent again, before Alfred chose to break it again.

"What happened to you?" he asked, expression pleading for honesty. Matthew hesitated. He still remembered what had happened like it had been yesterday.

City of Beledent, Rywan
20th Jaune, 4501CC
(11 years ago)

Matthew's gaze darted around nervously as he was hauled along by the hand. The plaza was unusually quiet today, and those people who he could see looked downcast and distrusting. A sort of mutual anger or grievance tied them together.

Though his parents had written both him and his brother off as useless and unintelligent, he was observant to almost a fault. He knew that something had been happening in the last few weeks. The city had been tense and high-strung since the start of the month. He didn't understand why – his parents wouldn't let him ever watch tv or read the news, but he had heard some things about the Free Courts. Whispers of invasion and murder had reached his ears from behind the heavy wooden door of his and his brother's bedroom.

He looked forwards again. His mother was tugging Alfie sharply along by the elbow. His arm was being pulled above his head in such a way that Matthew feared she would dislocate his shoulder. Alfie wasn't crying – they'd had that habit yelled and beaten out of them before they were 7 – but his face was drawn, and Matthew could tell that he was upset. It was their father who was dragging Matthew forwards. He didn't know why they thought it was necessary. He was 10 – only a few weeks off turning 11 – and even Alfie was 9. They knew not to stop and stare at the stalls. They had both been so good the past few weeks, and hadn't even watched the news, keeping to their parents' 'no-television' rule even though their parents let it blare all night in the living room.

He winced as his father's nails dug into his skin and dragged him forwards again. He and Alfie had both been brought down to the market plaza today. It was normally something which only either their father or mother went to, but today they had been given what he had initially thought of as a treat, and got to come along too. His mood had been high before he had heard his mother muttering that she didn't want them to watch the tv (which she had left on) and start talking to them to ask 'ridiculous questions'. He wasn't sure what questions he would be asking; perhaps some about the 24-hour newsreel which had just started up. Their mother hated it when they made noise, and they had quickly learned to speak only to each other, or if there was some sort of emergency. Alfie had made the mistake last week of asking why there was so much violence on the tv while walking to the kitchen. Their mother had hit him in the head with a wooden spoon and locked him in the closet for three hours.

Matthew looked around. The marketplace seemed oddly empty today. He couldn't see several of the usual merchants – Birgitte and Samso and Dalla were all nowhere to be found. He missed them. Dalla was always very kind to him, though the disapproving looks that she never failed to throw at his parents had always confused him. The last time he had seen her, she had given him two small bars of chocolate for free. He and Alfie had shared them, and kept the wrappers hidden from their parents. She was one of Matthew's favourite people in the world, save Alfie.

But, looking around now, he couldn't see her anywhere. Jorund, Yngvild and Tofa were also gone. Taking a deep breath, he decided to dare to ask a question.

"Um, papa, where are all the merchants?" he asked, quietly enough that his dad could choose to ignore him. For once, his papa didn't immediately move to hit his mouth, and glanced down at him.

"They're gone."

He hesitated, before daring to keep asking. "Gone?"

"Because they were all Fynknian. They're being sent back to their planet."

"But why? They live here."

"Because there are things happening on their planet, so the Union has asked them to go back." His father said, starting to sound annoyed. "The Union doesn't want them wandering around everywhere, so they're being deported." Matthew didn't understand the word 'deported', but he supposed that that meant they were missing.

"But-"

"No more questions." His father snapped. The harshness which was usually present in his voice had come back, momentary tolerance vanishing, and Matthew cowered a little, nodding and resuming his silence. His mother, up ahead with Alfie, had stopped walking, and Matthew ducked out of his father's reach and ran up to them. He gently pulled Alfie away and started telling him, as quietly as possible, what his father said.

"But they're the nice ones." Alfie complained. "What makes them Fynkn-yun?" he butchered the pronunciation, but Matthew still understood, and shrugged. He thought carefully.

"They all had like, white hair, didn't they?" he said. "And blue eyes? Maybe that's it." Alfie nodded, looking happy.

"Yeah! I bet that's what it is." he said. Their mother shot him a vicious glare for talking so loudly, and Alfie shrank back behind Matthew. Matthew was about to whisper something to comfort him a little, when the far end of the plaza exploded in noise. Matthew spun around, as did Alfie and their parents, to see a huge plume of smoke billowing upwards. He realised, it hadn't just been an explosion of noise – it had been an actual explosion.

Alfie seized Matthew's hand, looking frightened. He heard their father mutter something in Common Standard – which he refused to teach them – and immediately move towards the direction of the explosion. There was more noise coming from that direction. People had started to rush into the main hallway to see what was going on. There was a lot of shouting. Their mother seized Alfie's other hand and grabbed at their father's shirt. More loud noises sounded from the area of the smoke, and then many loud, bangs. Matthew blinked. He had seen just enough of the news to know that sound – gunshots. There were soldiers in the streets now, too, rushing towards the chaos.

Matthew felt himself being pulled in the other direction, and complied, moving away. For a few moments, it seemed like the chaos would stay contained to that one area. But the street started to explode in noise. One woman lifted a large rifle in the air and screamed out.

"Death to the Union scum!"

Then the street exploded into activity. There were people running and yelling and screaming, brandishing weapons at the soldiers who were packing the streets. The smell of smoke was spreading, and Matthew heard several more explosions, each one coming closer. Someone ran up the street from the area of the first explosion, and staggered past Matthew. He screamed, too frightened to remember the no-talking rule. They had pale skin and white hair, and so must have been 'Fynknian'. They had clearly been near the explosion – part of their hair was singed off, and part of their arm had been ripped away, including several fingers. They were drenched in blood. Matthew staggered, trying desperately to keep ahold of Alfie as they ran from the violence. But the violence was all around them, and there was nothing they could do.

He stumbled over something bumpy, and sobbed when he saw the gutted remains of a young woman. Alfie's hold on him loosened, and Matthew swivelled around to look at the vast throng of fighting, screaming people. It was a mistake, and he only realised it as Alfie's hand slipped out of his own.

He stumbled and fell, blinking in shock as he tried to dodge a soldier fighting with a woman bearing a hunting knife, and finally staggered to his feet. He couldn't see his brother or his parents, and felt panic surge up inside him. It reminded him of when he had accidentally been left in a supermarket by their mother. She had shown up, an hour later, looking very angry and not at all concerned, and hauled him home by his ear.

He pivoted, looking around wildly, but to no avail. He was alone in a plaza of blood and violence. His family had vanished.

He had only really understood what had happened several years later. The Fynknian population in Beledent – which was quite sizeable – had been rounded up and imprisoned after the Expansion had started in the Free Courts just two weeks earlier. They had all been standing, tightly packed into a pen at the far end of the plaza, waiting to be forced to go home under the new regime. Someone hadn't agreed with the idea, however, and had set off a bomb by the entrance. It had blown the gates wide open, and in addition to killing 23 of the prisoners inside and injuring over 100 more, had given the trapped people an opportunity to escape. They had seized it.

The rest of Beledent was very fond of the Fynknian population – their culture was interesting and they were good, honest, hardworking people. The roundups had inspired fury in a large proportion of Beledent's population, and upon seeing the explosion, civilians had risen up and fought back against the soldiers trying to capture and kill the escaped Fynknians. The ensuing riots had lasted for over a fortnight and killed well over 1000 people. So many buildings had been vandalised, bombed or otherwise destroyed that Matthew had been unable to recognise any landmarks, and as such, been unable to find his family again. He shuffled a little, sighing, and started to explain.

"After the riots ended, I tried to find my way back home, but all of the landmarks which I recognised had been destroyed, so I was completely lost. I spent a good month scavenging for food and water in the plaza area. I met three siblings whose parents had died during the raids; Abel, Bella and Louis Anderssen. I became friends with them and we started to help each other out." He leant back against the wall. "We met another Fynknian man who had managed to avoid the last roundups. He took care of us, but died a few weeks later. He had friends in the resistance, though, since the Free Courts always used to lend them so much help. They found us and took us to their old base." Matthew shrugged. "I've been part of the resistance ever since."

Alfred nodded, silently taking in the information. "So, what's the resistance been like?" Matthew grinned.

"Amazing, obviously. Not to brag or anything, but I am a Captain already." Alfred blinked, actually looking impressed. "All of my friends are here, and we get to do good by fighting the Union. I know that they brand us as terrorists, but what we've managed to do; releasing slaves, freeing political prisoners, saving people from suppressed groups, it's worth the danger." Alfred nodded again, and Matthew found the courage to ask. "What about you?"

Alfred sighed. "Well, I managed to stay with our parents. We ended up staying at a shelter for the displaced for about three weeks. I begged them to look for you, but they didn't really do anything more than list you as missing and ignore it. We got home eventually, but we'd been robbed during the riots, so most of our stuff was gone. Our father got a job in helping with the clean-up efforts, and kept at it until we had a steady income. But," he hesitated. "They…noticed the difference that you being gone had on our finances. They seemed to notice that they could save money by having less children. Not that they ever spent a ton of money on us anyway." He said resentfully.

Their parents had been awful, it was true, and Matthew was unsurprised to hear that they hadn't cared much about his absence. He gently prompted him to keep going.

"About eight months after the riots," Alfred said, "we all went into Karkira City in the south by train. They took me to an orphanage downtown, handed me a small bag of my things, and left me there." Matthew couldn't stop the sheer shock on his face. Yes, neglecting and abusing your children was one thing, but consciously abandoning them? He felt nauseous as Alfred continued.

"I stayed there for about 5 years. They had a rule that no child over the age of 15 could stay in the orphanage. They knew I had nothing, but the place was getting overpacked anyway, so they handed me my identification papers, about 500 marks and a backpack and kicked me out." Matthew winced. He despised the fact that orphanages did that. One orphanage in Jhobras had given the resistance free reign to take anyone who had been kicked out, or was soon going to be, simply because they had gotten too old to remain under their care. They'd acquired many new members from the place. Many were unmotivated, but just as many others were grateful for the fact that they were being given food and water, and participated in missions.

"The first thing I did was buy basic supplies." He continued. "A blanket, water bottle, lighter, knife, etcetera. I eventually decided to pay the fee and get my ID papers authenticated into a proper passport. I was homeless for a while, before I decided to try my luck on another planet. I got a ticket on a shady rig going to Reycass. I spent time in a few different sectors, before I met Matthias, one of the others. He offered me a job as a bounty hunter, and I accepted. I've worked with him and the others ever since. The work we do isn't as good or righteous, but they're my friends, and they've helped me out a lot since Beledent." Matthew nodded, and they both fell silent, looking down.

"I missed you so much." He heard Alfred say quietly, sniffling slightly. Looking up, he could see that his brother had started to cry. "All through the riots and after. When I was in the orphanage and homeless and even when I started to work with Matthias and the others. I couldn't stop missing you. You were a brother and parent mixed into one for most of my childhood. When you vanished…I blamed myself, because I couldn't hold on to your hand tight enough." Matthew shook his head a little.

"It wasn't your fault." He said, feeling tears prick at his eyes as well. "I missed you too. I consider my friends here to be my family, but I could never forget you. Not our parents" he added, "they were assholes. I know you've probably been wondering why I didn't come to talk to you earlier…" he sighed shakily, "well, I was frightened. I always thought it was my fault that I'd gotten lost and…well, I hated the thought of you being left alone with those monsters we called our parents. I was afraid that you'd hate me."

Alfred hiccupped, shaking his head a little as a watery smile spread across his face.

"Moron," he hiccupped softly, "You know that I couldn't hate you."

Matthew gave him a watery smile, before shifting forwards and, finally, hugging him. He let out a shuddering sigh and gripped him tighter. Alfred let out a little sob and clutched him back, burying his face into Matthew's shoulder as he shook.

"It's okay Alfie," Matthew whispered, "we're back together now. I won't let you disappear again."

Kristian strode from the medical tent, mulling over what Kabeeta had been telling him. He had always known she was a genius, but the information about the altered medication was still a shock.

It doesn't just stay the effects of the disease, she'd said, it actively attacks it. Of course, it's still only experimental, but the results so far are very promising.

He shook his head a little. He would have to tell Yao about it, considering how helpful it could be to their cause, and in acquiring useful recruits. He smiled a little at the thought. It was good to know that the drama plaguing the resistance for the last few weeks was now put to rest. Yao had been found innocent (thank goodness), their spy was imprisoned and ready to be interrogated, and Ismeta had formally apologised for acting in such a cruel manner towards Vlad. They had talked long and hard about their relationship last night.

She finally seemed fine with it, and had apologised to Vlad earlier that day, taking back her harsh words profusely. It felt good for them to all be friends again, especially given the fact that he no longer had to hide the love that he had for his boyfriend from her.

However, there was one thing still niggling at the back of Kristian's brain.

Lukas.

Rumours had spread like wildfire since yesterday that Yao had been aware that one or more of the Free Court royals was present in the resistance. Kristian believed it. Vlad's interest in the Fynknian, not to mention how quickly Kari (who was normally sharp and taciturn to a fault) had befriended him, only reinforced the possibility. His age and general appearance also seemed to line up with what limited information there was available on the prince.

He quickly set off towards the shooting range. He had asked Lukas this morning to meet him there, and he was relieved to see that the Fynknian had actually shown up. He slumped down into the red dirt beside him. Lukas sighed.

"I assume that you've heard all the rumours." He said simply. Kristian nodded, looking over at him. Lukas was only a year older than him, but sitting there in that moment, with the breeze pulling at his pale hair, he looked much, much older. Already, he was beaten and world-weary. Kristian didn't doubt that that was how he felt. "Well," Lukas continued, "they are true."

Kristian nodded again. "I suspected as much. Kari never takes to anyone that quickly. It took her about six months to call me by my name, instead of just yelling 'Alekseev!'" Lukas smiled a little at that. He didn't smile very often, but Kristian had noticed that he had started to do it more often recently. "I must admit, you don't act very regal." Lukas shrugged.

"Good. I wouldn't want to, anyway." He said simply.

"You know, if you ever need to practice your lahjof on anyone, I'm available." Lukas actually really smiled at that, raising an eyebrow at him.

"First of all, you really need to learn how to pronounce Fynknian properly, because you absolutely butchered that. Second, thank you, but I promise that you'll regret offering soon enough." He teased. Kristian grinned.

"Probably, but what are friends for?"

"I…wouldn't really know, to be honest."

"I'll make sure you do, then." Kristian said. Lukas grinned at him again, and they leaned back, both enjoying the silent comfort of the other's presence as the sunset stretched long and red.