from the sun to the moon to the stars
(The prompt list had 20 on the top side and only 19 on the bottom, for whatever reason, so I added one at the end for balance.)
Chapters
Chapter 01: grumpy i.
Chapter 02: sunshine i.
Chapter 03: grumpy ii.
Chapter 04: sunshine ii.
Chapter 05: grumpy iii.
Chapter 06: sunshine iii.
Chapter 07: grumpy iv.
Chapter 08: sunshine iv.
Chapter 09: grumpy v.
Chapter 10: sunshine v.
Chapter 11: grumpy vi.
Chapter 12: sunshine vi.
Chapter 13: grumpy vii.
Chapter 14: sunshine vii.
Chapter 15: grumpy viii.
Chapter 16: sunshine viii.
Chapter 17: grumpy ix.
Chapter 18: sunshine ix.
Chapter 19: grumpy x.
Chapter 20: sunshine x.
Chapter 21: grumpy xi.
Chapter 22: sunshine xi.
Chapter 23: grumpy xii.
Chapter 24: sunshine xii.
Chapter 25: grumpy xiii.
Chapter 26: sunshine xiii.
Chapter 27: grumpy xiv.
Chapter 28: sunshine xiv.
Chapter 29: grumpy xv.
Chapter 30: sunshine xv.
Chapter 31: grumpy xvi.
Chapter 32: sunshine xvi.
Chapter 33: grumpy xvii.
Chapter 34: sunshine xvii.
Chapter 35: grumpy xviii.
Chapter 36: sunshine xviii.
Chapter 37: grumpy xix.
Chapter 38: sunshine xix.
Chapter 39: grumpy xx.
Chapter 40: sunshine xx.
"i know i can be an asshole, but...you always see the good in me."
It's not Haze's fault that she's bubbly, effervescent, friendly, what-have-you. It's not her fault that she's incredibly prone to overestimating Minoth's spare shares of goodwill, even by now. Anybody would be, since he can be so unfathomably genial the remainder of the time.
Maybe it's not even his fault for not having those shining moments constantly and consistently out to hand. It's only when Addam offers his own estimation that he really begins to regret it.
Neither disappointment nor excuses. Only understanding, by now.
The way he smiles, softly but never like he's hurt. The way he loves, even so.
"i love it when you smile! i wish you'd do it all the time..."
Addam, like any reasonable man, is properly fascinated with Minoth. His weapons, his armor, his hair, yes, all that, but his face in particular. The cheekbones are worn and sharp all at once, simultaneously welcoming and dangerous.
Those eyes...those beautiful, dangerous eyes. He's never quite sure whether he'd care for the chance to see out of them, losing that to see them as they truly are, barring the assistance of a mirror.
And though it's rare, always guarded, there's Minoth's smile. He never asks for it, but oh, he always wants.
Joy. It's almost painful, seeing it fade away.
"only you could convince me to do something like this!"
"I can't believe you actually got me up here."
"Come now, Minoth! Surely you can't tell me that in all your visits to Auresco, you've never once itched to scale the tower and see what the view is like from up here."
If Addam dares to slap his back, Minoth doubts he'll survive to give the prince a piece of his mind about it. It defies natural order for humanoids to be this far away from the nearest flat plane and still within viewing distance.
Ah, but then...Addam's ability to drag him into absolutely anything defies natural order too.
"you have a really good smile, you know that?"
Oh, he's still thinking about it. The round, white teeth, the vivid crinkles around the eyes, the wry glint that supersedes self-consciousness, even if only temporarily...
"You're quite handsome, when you smile." As if he's not positively gorgeous at all hours of the day. "Did you know that, Minoth?"
Minoth shrugs; the creases have already shrunken away. "I suppose so."
Addam goes quiet, too. Then: "It's the best smile I know, because it means you're happy."
Frustratingly, Minoth seems to refuse to reveal the expression again, but something in his eyes gives at least a sliver of that same contentment.
"don't make this weird, but...i saw this in the store. figured you'd like it."
Addam's the type of man who'll be happy with anything you give him, and then again delighted if it's nothing at all. You have to make a game out of it, jokes about the fidgetiness of it all, if you do try to tease some genuine, specific surprise out of him, because otherwise it's...boring.
What do you get for the man who has everything? An experience, of course.
Minoth doesn't play games, doesn't keep that brand of enthusiasm in stock. No use making a song and dance about an Armu carving.
"...thought you might like this."
Isn't that it?
"see? i knew there was a soft heart under all that grumbling!"
Clown, he says. If I must, he says. Oh boy. Not again. Is this really worth the effort?
But while they're still waiting for the expedition team to return from Uraya, Addam watches Minoth expend all his usual effort - redoubled, to boot - cheering up Freja while she waits malingering with disheartenedness.
She falls asleep with her cheek smushed against his shoulder, just like Haze. If it was really only according to must, Minoth would have gingerly tilted the girl to the opposite side and skedaddled, but...
"That was sweet of you," Addam remarks.
Minoth rolls his eyes. "Okay. That's that."
"nobody's ever made me feel the way you do."
"Addam..."
"Hm? Yes, Minoth?"
He feels a strange sort of feeling, but not strange enough to prompt him to emit something so uncharacteristic as an "I was just thinking." He was, sure, but not only just.
He's always been, hasn't he? He's always had to. Because...
"No one's ever made me feel like this."
"Like what, exactly?"
Minoth lifts a deadweight hand to the sky, lets it fall knuckles to lips.
"Loved."
Big word. Big sky.
Big heart, golden as the country.
And he feels like that, too. Light. Warm.
His hand is taken, but that's nothing new.
"Of course."
"admit it. you had fun today!"
Addam's handsy, but he's not keep-your-hands-to-yourself-or-else-I-swear handsy. He's enthusiastic, but like a big fluffy dog, not a furry little puppy.
No, Minoth might not be able to tolerate it if his prince starts asserting his triumphant told-you-so's with pokes and flourishes rather than simple, harmless smirks and leans.
"Oh, go on. Admit it! You had fun today. You actually enjoyed yourself, and you can't hide it from me. You did!"
Armu herding, with those docile, scaredy-moo specimens. Sure, he'd had fun, but what normal person has fun watching plodding lost cows?
"Do I get a kiss if I say yes?"
"you're so full of light...and i'm terrified that i'll be the one who quenches it."
Bright. So bright it almost hurts to look at, sometimes.
He radiates a light - part warmth, part electricity, all love - that Minoth can't even begin to fathom. It's a miracle he was given it in corporeal, man-shaped form at all, just to try to begin to parse.
And what if...
What if the combination of lightning and thunder isn't such a joyous storm? What if the light goes out?
"You don't have to do this, you know."
"I think I do."
"I'm scared."
"I am too. But any change with you feels as though it must be for the better."
"i want to know you. the real you. so let's go somewhere that makes you feel happy."
Naturally, Minoth hates Indol. He's no reason to like it, and quite a few to wince about, before brushing them off self-deprecatingly, and altogether it adds up to being a place in which he needs extremely specific circumstances in order to take pride.
Addam doesn't want that for him. If it's his business to want anything at all, he'd like to think that he'd be correct in asking Minoth where he'd rather be, that they might go there, and make good company in a better place than worse.
"It's...fine. You're here, so don't worry about it."
"Minoth. I worry."
"why do you stick around with a misery-guts like me?"
"Why do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Put up with me. Let all my baggage drag you down. You've got enough to deal with as it is."
He thinks the part about not envying the man with the fate of the world on his shoulders very guiltily to himself, doesn't dare say it out loud even though some part of him feels like it might be requisite to dissolve the tension, string it up another way that isn't focused on him, even as rude as that would be.
"Because I love you. Very much."
"That's it?"
"Isn't that reason enough?"
"you can't get rid of me that easily. i'm gonna be here every day to remind you how wonderful you are!"
"Shove off, Addam."
It's an oddly formal, received-royal turn of phrase. Minoth hates knowing where he got it from, but it doesn't matter.
"You can't keep wasting your time with me. I promise, you'll be better off if you just-"
"I don't think so. If you think you can just turn me away with words, then you don't know me quite as well as I thought you did. My place is at your side. Always, I will remind you of how much good you bring, how much wonder you are."
Impossible. Illogical, and Minoth isn't even always a logical man.
"you're the lighthouse in the fog, guiding me to shore..."
It needn't be overstated, but oh, his bond with Amalthus had never been this bright. Never this visible, tangible - guiding like a lighthouse, quite literally.
He can see Addam. The impulse of caring despite everything, of knowing he's not fit for it nor meant for it but having no choice but to give all of himself just the same, shines so brilliantly through the murk of blood and ether damply combined.
Maybe he should be more independent. Maybe he should get up, get off on his own.
But he'd never know how to get away. He wouldn't have the shore.
"you know me. you...see me. i'm never totally myself unless i'm with you."
You'd never know from looking at him that Addam Origo can be a guarded man, that he has it in him to be anything but a wide-open book.
See? That's exactly it. When he's among his subjects, he looks the perfect affable prince, and indeed in most ways about which they might care, he is. When he breaks down and confesses all-consuming fear regarding his duty with Mythra, he's lost the lustre, the ever-upright essence that might even be called swagger.
He confides those things evenly in Minoth: all of them, all of it.
Minoth smiles, grateful for the trust.
"i'm trying so hard, but...i can't stop myself from falling in love with you."
It's a damned cliché, is what it is. To relent to the trope that the first person who's shown him any real kindess, any great compassionate love, is the one he'll fall in love with, hooks over lines over sinkers, is to admit barefaced that he believes his path so broken, so devoid of that same kindness and love.
Minoth tries. Oh, he tries as hard as he can. And Addam looks at him, expecting not a thing, and so delivered is his justice, his bravest truth.
"I can't stop," he whispers, apologetic.
Addam makes an overcome, elated sound. "Don't."
"everyone else always sees this ridiculously happy, overexcited, naïve little baby who needs protecting. but...never you. you've always seen the real me. i guess that's what i love the most about you."
Addam's younger than he looks - ridiculously perfect contrast to Lora, older (like she's never aged, never grown up - so on, so forth).
It's not like he's ever really been hard up, but sure, he's a little off-kilter.
Minoth takes trace immaturity for what it is, grants it the pause it's due. No more.
Zettar half-sneers, half-scolds. Addam's neck bows just a bit too far, but just then, Minoth indulges in a conveniently loud cough and rearrangement of his arms. Maybe he knocks the back of his gauntlet against the handle of his gun, just for kicks.
It's all Addam needs.
"i love you...oh, damn it, don't look at me, i'm all red."
He knows he doesn't have to say it. No one's expecting him to - not Addam, not necessarily Lora or Haze or Aegaeon either.
Sometimes he feels like it, though, and not just folded over expectations' irony.
That it might be an easy thing, and not only a painfully obvious one, is a nice idea. A dream? Maybe that's all it is.
"I love you," he says. No name, no epithet, no address, just what he sees and feels as the truth.
Something strange happens to his face just then. Addam looks just as fondly at the turned, reddened cheek nonetheless.
"why is it so damn difficult for you to believe you're worthy of love?"
For Addam, true anger is a hard thing to uncover, as it seems to be with most benign souls in their world. Malos brings it out, absolutely, but Zettar or even Amalthus, for instance, don't seem to, at least not on the typically so easily available surface.
Quite often, relatively, Minoth is the one who owns his irritation.
"Why are you so determined to be seen as unworthy of love? You know that is all it will ever be - a façade."
"It's not my choice," Minoth grinds out, bristling at the cold words.
Confounded, Addam resorts to silent, stubborn love.
"i don't really smile much. not unless you're around, it seems."
We've well established that Minoth is the brooding, cautious type. He takes great pains to be congenial, even gregarious, when the situation calls, but you'll never catch him walking around with a patient smile, ready to greet oncomers with open arms.
Addam doesn't bother him about it. He gets it - understands it, anyway. It's not Minoth's thing. That's fine. It makes the grins he does see all the more special, doesn't it?
Once, though, Minoth happens to take him the wrong way when he mentions the same.
"Sorry to disappoint, Prince. Trust me, it's even worse when you're not around."
"you make me smile. and laugh. i feel happy when i'm with you! is that so hard to believe?"
So Addam's always cheery. Big deal. That's just how he is. Nothing to do with Minoth. No way. Couldn't possibly be.
He's brooding, thinking on the news from the capital they've yet to actually take action on because they're on foot crossing the desert.
Then Minoth pulls up a stone. "Are you winning?"
Addam laughs, and Minoth can only squint his confusion.
"That was funny?" Even he, the one who told it, can't pick out the humor in that inane quip.
Still laughing. "Honestly, no, but...oh, Minoth! Don't you know?"
Uh... "Know what?"
"I'm happy because I'm with you!"
"no. no way, no way in hell am i doing that. no! no...aw, fine..."
"No. Not gonna happen." No way in hell I'm handing my guns to a random human - that's worse than Amalthus.
(Impossible.)
"Please?"
Oh, they're not puppy-dog eyes, but they're damn close.
"No. Not doing that."
"Not even with me?"
You? Who are you? Just Prince Addam Origo, Lord of Aletta and Torna's fourth in line to the throne.
Nothing special. I'm not so flattered.
Genuinely, he doesn't care about the status. It's funny in concept, sure, but nothing impactful on the ground.
Addam's heart leaping at the edge of the makeshift bond sure is, though.
"Agh...okay. Fine. You win."
"don't be so stubborn! take my coat/scarf!"
Minoth doesn't get cold - or warm, for that matter. He's indifferent to temperature, and that's the way he likes it. He owes it just as much to temperament as he does to composition, because it's not only a Blade thing. It can't be, you know.
Temperantia's a bitter thing, though. Swirling winds? Not necessarily. Just...not much of anything at all.
Addam offers his cloak, a traveler's stand-in for a formal greatcoat, with such a profuse abandon that Minoth hardly has the stamina to keep refusing.
"I'm fine, okay? Don't need a thing from you."
Addam wraps him up anyway.
"how are you so happy all the time?"
"How are you so happy all the time?"
Addam takes pause and makes an appraising face, at that.
"I don't think I am. I'm just pleasant to be around." He almost feels as though he should shy away from being so confident in that fact, but then it really is only true. "I don't let my emotions get in the way of my interactions."
Minoth raises an ever-so-slightly-exasperated eyebrow. "That meant to be a dig, Prince?"
"Not at all. But if the difference really is so great, then I'd like us to figure out how you can be just as."
"come on! dance with me!"
The notion that Auresco has a semi-stable weekly tradition of street dancing in the city's shopping ward is generally well-received by their group. The Ardainian contingent seems appropriately piqued, and Lora and Haze gush at Jin's elbows in time and tandem. Even Mythra takes cautious interest.
But Minoth? He knows Brighid, most likely already partnered, has only a precious reserve vial of patience for his cornish chivalry to begin with, and where does that leave him?
"Come on, Minoth, dance with me!"
That grin so disarming, those arms so inviting...
Yeah, yeah. Who wouldn't want to dance with a prince?
"oh jeez...nobody's ever made me laugh like that in a long, long time..."
"Did you see Aegaeon, in that last fight? Titan's foot... I never thought I could see someone get so wet in the heat of battle!"
If Minoth had bothered to even attempt to stop himself from laughing, he'd probably be spitting out his canteen swig in due time anyway. He doesn't even need to explicate his amusement before Addam realizes the implication of his comment.
"No, no, that's not what I meant at all-- Minoth!!"
By the end of it, he's sighing from the very peak of his tenor down.
"Oh...oh, Addam, I haven't laughed like that in...forever."
"who'd have thought you'd be such a softie!"
Playwrights, poets, writers...they're born saps, aren't they? They very nearly have to be - how could they get on successfully otherwise?
As far as Addam's ever seen, though, Minoth reserves that gushing emotion for the page, for the stage. He doesn't allow it access to his true vulnerability.
So, then. To read a poem composed of trust and love and pain and beauty, pledging sentiments not vague but nuanced to a man called "my Driver" and "my love" alike?
It's shocking, and it's touching, and it's a little victory too. Addam revels in it.
"Well, now. What's all this about?"
"i don't think i wanna know a world without your smiles."
Good morning.
Minoth's not exactly opposed to the general idea of one, and when spun romantic in a theatrical context it's definitely a favored device - the newness of scene combined with the newness of time? it's a perfect match - but he also wouldn't call himself receptive.
What happens in the morning, though?
Addam, an early riser slackened with the wears of the road, wakes him up, brings him tea and good tidings, says hello, I've missed you tonight.
And Minoth loves mornings, because mornings are when he has Addam's beautiful smiles all to himself.
What would he do without them?
"your smiles are like shooting stars. really rare, and really beautiful."
"Oh, that's cracking. Did you see that, Minoth?"
A mid-spring meteor shower? Addam doesn't profess to know the chance of it, but he's taking the chance of it anyway: he and Minoth are sprawled out on the Verdant Fairylands, somewhat removed from the rest of the group.
Answer? No. Addam glances over and finds stern blue eyes staring back at him. Underneath is a brilliant smile, like scarce been seen before.
"If I didn't know any better," he starts quietly, "I'd think the stars were right down here with me."
Minoth flushes slightly, and just as quietly takes Addam's hand.
"i never feel like this grumpy asshole when you're around. i feel like...me. the real me..."
With a tremendous roll of the eyes and jerk of the shoulders, Minoth indicates his annoyance - exasperation, and indeed exacerbation of the same. Subject closed, fin scene.
"Do you think you'll be feeling like this long?" Addam asks, fidgeting with his thumbs near where his lap would be if he were sitting and not standing skittish in the doorway some scant minutes after Jin's left and taken his verbal sparring with him. They're usually friends, but even friends have their disagreements.
Minoth doesn't perk up, no, but something about him softens.
"No," he answers quietly. "Not now that you're here."
"don't go. please? just...we can share the bed. i just don't want to be alone right now, if you don't mind..."
Addam hates being the outwardly weak, lame one just as much as he knows Minoth hates being opposite it. It sets their whole balance askew, puts defense on offense and vice-versa, but he can't help it. Even he has to run out sometime.
The pleading is the worst part about it.
Usually, it's an ask and a reluctant answer, not a pale, trembling hand reaching in the dark for something darker.
He doesn't even remember why it happened, just his own voice asking Minoth not to go, and Minoth shuddering with something deeper than a sigh as he moves alongside.
"hey, now...i'm not going anywhere. i'm gonna stay right here. right with you."
Minoth watches Addam. Minoth knows Addam. Minoth knows that the fear is of destruction, not desertion. He doesn't think Mythra's going to turn tail, swap sides, only that she'll lose control of her intentions while she is firmly planted in their camp.
But Addam is afraid that Minoth might leave. Oh, he is so, so afraid.
Minoth receives this information, makes internal compromise as he will.
He lays a quiet hand on the bulk of Addam's arm. He holds on.
"I'm here, my prince. You know I always will be."
"I...I know."
And he wants to, so he will.
"we all have our flaws. you stayed with me in spite of mine. now i'm doing the same..."
He's weak, when Amalthus gets to him. He's confused, torn, mentally and physically. Which way does he go? Was he wrong to leave, to run?
Addam knows he wasn't. Addam knows Minoth's never charged him with an irritation he doesn't deserve, either.
"Do you think I would leave you, for this...weakness? Do you think this would turn me away?"
Minoth bites his lip, clutches distractedly forcefully at his arm. "I don't know," he admits. He doesn't exactly sound full afraid of it.
"It won't," Addam continues gently. Exhaling, he pulls Minoth in to his chest. "We are equal, together."
"whoa...hey, now, who made you cry? where'd they go?"
Minoth's not the murderous type - revenge-mongering, vicious, bitter, however you want to describe it. He's not the type to track down evildoers solely to punch them in the face and be on his otherwise-merry way, because if he can't actually do anything fruitful and truly justice-serving about it, then what's the point?
But for Addam, sometimes it rises. For Addam, who cries single tears or angry floods, Minoth starts looking around corners, starts wanting to find out who goddamn did this, and how they're gonna pay for it.
And Addam, damn it all, well...he's not opposed. Even, he's flattered.
"we're two sides of the same coin. right?"
Leaving aside the issue of generalized homophobia, townspeople looking at a handsome young man like Addam and wondering why on Alrest he'd fritter away his respectability on a moth-eaten sort of masculine Blade like Minoth, they very nearly look to not belong together.
Very nearly. The technicality, however, lies in the gaps they fill.
We fight with one spirit, one soul. "We look like quite the pair, don't we, Minoth?"
And Minoth doesn't shake his head. They do, don't they - dark and light, worn and fresh, old and new, dangerous and safe?
"Couldn't have said it better myself, my prince."
"don't make a big deal out of this. you like hugs, right? so...here's a hug."
There are only so many discrete occasions for ceremony: the knighting itself, aftermaths of this or that battle, maybe particularly prosperous discoveries in the desert? It's nice that they have occasions at all, but it's no party, all things considered.
That leaves Minoth with less unceremonious opportunities at which to offer odd measures of affection he might be feeling. What's a guy to do?
Well, maybe he can't offer kisses, but Addam's always in the mood for a hug, it seems.
He doesn't have time to grumble out something characteristically dismissive before his offer is joyously, crushingly accepted.
Yep. Always.
"well, they do say opposites attract..."
It's not just that Minoth's handsome. No, not just.
It's also that, if Addam will pretend himself prideful enough to admit that he is as well, Minoth is so different to him. Jaw broader, tone darker, foreheard bare and cheeks lined, colored in blacks and blues instead of whites and reds...
The opposite is so intriguing, so attractive, even if not on a conscious level. And of course, of course, their natural moods are so dichotomized.
"Is that why you put up with me, do you think?"
He grins lazily, which Minoth does too...seldomly.
"Sure, Prince. Whatever you say."
"um...if you don't mind, i think i'd like a hug right now. if that's okay..."
He hates asking for things - in the beginning, he'd ask for money, and every now and then he still does, but now it's a joke, and the vulnerability's been all swept aside and behind.
This, though? He can't hide. He can't pretend.
Everyone else is off triaging after Malos in the city. It's a time of shaky relief, for Minoth as for anyone else, though Lora's not been knighted yet; Amalthus yet lurks.
"Can I have a hug?"
The phrase is naked and afraid, but Addam nods earnestly and gathers Minoth up in his arms.
It's the safety he loves.
"of course i remembered! i remember everything about you!"
There aren't many things to remember about Minoth. He's sort of subtly obvious, unlike Addam. You might say he's...strongly characterized.
He likes soup - Ruska Dumpling, to be specific, but everyone knows that. He likes savory foods, overall, and if it's not peace and quiet then it had better be damn good conversation.
He also likes perfume. Addam could go either way, as an observer, but he likes the idea of the habit, no doubt.
Exquisite Perfume. That's the scent, and even though it sounds generic, of course Addam remembers.
"How'd you know?"
"Why, I take great pride in knowing."
"the world just feels...right. when you're with me."
Peace. Contentment.
Minoth is an attacker-class Blade, manifested of the Dark element much as he might prefer, feel more purely aligned with, the Earth; his weapons are guns and knives.
He's not for peace, not gentle things.
No one says he has to be, necessarily, but when he's met those feelings, with Addam...
"Doesn't make any sense to me, Prince, but I know it's right. It really is how it's supposed to be."
Addam stretches, sinks his arms heavier over Minoth's collarbones. "You're never wrong, I find."
"Never?" He can't help but grin. "Come on, Prince."
"Ahhh...if you insist."
"of course i'm not always thinking about you, just most of the time - whenever i'm smiling!"
"Oh, Minoth. I was just thinking about you!"
As usual, the prince grins so broadly Minoth's shocked the room fits it. He'd been out helping Joey herd again, leaving the rest of the group to themselves.
"Again?" About the thinking, of course. "Seems to me you're...always doing that." Always.
Addam's lips bend generally downwards, but the smile hasn't left him. "Always? I don't think so."
"I can't think of a time I've seen you when you haven't been all but jumping up to tell me how fond you are."
Is he bothered? Ehhh... "It's cute. I guess."
Addam beams.