Chapter Text
They had an agreement.
Well, an unspoken one, but an agreement all the same.
Yes, the marks on their skin resembled each other, but that didn’t necessarily demand them to do something about it, did it? Who cares if the universe suddenly decided that it was a good idea to tie their fates together—to make them, out of all people, soulmates?
Apparently, they should.
But still.
It made no absolute sense, more so since they started on the worst footing allies could ever manage.
The last vestiges of triumph after Elias sealed his alliance with the rebellion had quickly simmered down when Yun discovered that the swordsman was a loose cannon. He’d already lost count of the times Elias had decided to follow his jurisdiction while out on the field, abandoning Yun’s orders and moving on his own. Granted, he never failed in meeting the job’s objective, but that didn’t account for his tendency to be reckless either.
Elias Everstied was a man of many things. He was as sharp as his blade and as righteous and honorable as his surname. But at times, he was also annoyingly obstinate and simply unyielding to good plain common sense; enough to drive Yun closer to pulling his hair off its roots.
“Well, I can see why that would be difficult for someone like you,” Elias had shot back when Yun decided to bring this up one day, “especially since you’re so used to getting your way.”
“A bit ironic coming from you, isn’t it?” Yun retorted, standing his ground. “I gave you my word, Everstied. You could at least spare me some respect.”
“And when will your word mean anything?” Elias turned on his heel. “For all I know, you could be using the rebellion to suit your own benefit, anyway.”
Yun had already practiced an impassive front too many times to flounder at that insult. But that didn’t stop him from searing his glare on Elias’ back when the man left the office.
The acrimony was thick in the air whenever the two of them were in each other’s vicinity. Sometimes it tempted Yun to fan the flames, just to see Elias get all stiff and riled up. Sometimes Elias would return the favor, and more often than not, it made Yun consider throwing Elias back behind the bars, even when he knew deep down that he had no such plans on seeing it done.
And then they discovered that they were bonded.
There wasn’t really an exact science to soulmates. The elder folk said it was by some unidentified force—fate, they presumed—that determined who belonged to whom, with nothing but a mark on their skin that signified their bond. The marks could appear anywhere at birth, but it was believed that they were constant in one single fact: they were never wrong.
Yun would gladly beg to differ.
It’s almost cliché how it happened—he and Elias had been reaching for the same scroll among the delivered reports when their hands brushed, and Yun’s chest erupted straightaway with a burst of crackling warmth that drew him in like a current. It was a foreign feeling, yet the cogs in his brain had instantly clicked into place the moment his eyes met Elias’ equally surprised ones.
A soulmate.
Both of them had recoiled, as if that one single touch had scorched their fingers. Yun’s eyes were almost immediately drawn to the exposed skin between Elias’ open collar, zeroing in on the soulmate mark he’d just realized was there all along. It was almost as if it beckoned him to look, in the same way he felt the taller man’s gaze on his arm—pointed despite the sleeve covering Yun’s own mark, like he suddenly knew that it existed right at that spot.
Soulmates. Them. Fated.
Them.
It was completely ridiculous.
They didn’t talk, and with one look at Elias, Yun knew they never would.
Or at least not yet.
Mutual animosity aside, they both had a country to save and an entire government to defeat. To ‘talk’ about how they were supposedly each other’s better half had easily fallen to the bottommost depth of their respective agendas.
Which was why Yun desperately hoped that to be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
Had he only known that crossing paths with your soulmate meant having your emotions intertwined from then on, Yun would’ve thought twice about breaking the Everstied out of prison himself . There were certainly other ways to sway Elias into joining without personally meeting him. He could’ve sent a paid proxy, or pulled a few more strings—or to make things infinitely simpler, he could’ve formed a counter-revolutionary measure that didn’t need an expert swordsman to lead the charge. Granted, it would place a few drawbacks in the original plan, and their chances at gaining public favor would decrease to nothing without the Everstied name to bend the people. But Yun surmised roughly that he could very much live with that more than the knowledge that he was now transparent to the person he least wanted to be vulnerable to.
He definitely didn’t need to know the exact extent every time the Everstied’s irritation spiked to dangerous levels—which was a constant thing, apparently, and usually whenever Yun was involved. Of course it was whenever he was involved.
And he absolutely did not need the same Everstied looking at him strangely from across the room every time Yun felt a volatile stir in his composure.
Yun could never understand why other fated pairs found this convenient. Frankly, it was more of an unnecessary attachment than a practical medium of communication. It was intrusive. It was uncomfortable.
Perhaps, one thing that made this entire situation remotely bearable was knowing that Elias likely shared the same sentiments as he did. The scowl his face would take on whenever they’re together was far too telling; all the more reason to believe that the universe had made a grave error in mapping out their so-called ‘destinies’.
Yun always prided himself in being unpredictable. It made shaping strategies against enemies of a higher power a lot easier when they knew nothing of what was coming for them. He was always prudent, always making sure that there were no loose ends and no openings that were too revealing.
But all this fuss about soulmates had given Elias the perfect window of opportunity to read him like an open book, and Yun couldn’t exactly say that he’s feeling ecstatic at the mere idea of it.
“You withdrew.”
Like now, for instance.
Yun looked at the man in question. “What?”
Presently, they were in one of the Capital City’s neighboring towns, intending to gather intel from a tipped source. The surname ‘Sauzac’ was one of their leads, which, as it turned out, wasn’t too difficult to locate when a boy with the matching profile approached to sell them newspapers. It had been surprisingly quick.
Well, not until Yun decided to let him go.
“You backed down,” Elias remarked, his expression bemused as he nodded to the street where the boy had disappeared into. “That was Sauzac, right? It should’ve been easy to convince the kid into telling us what he knows, but you let him go. Why?”
Yun scowled. As if he already didn’t know why.
“He’s just a paperboy,” he explained, laying out the more prominent facts instead. “No matter how much he frequents the Capital City, Sauzac wouldn’t be able to give us much to figure out.”
“But it’s a start,” Elias argued. “Or at least it would have been.”
“Yes, it would be,” he corrected, slowly twisting to face the taller man. “Did you notice the blue badge on the boy’s inner shirt?”
It took a second for understanding to dawn on Elias. “Low clearance level.”
Yun nodded. “Right. The only way to visit the Capital as regularly as he claimed was to be granted a degree of access from the Civil Registry.”
“Which is in the form of those tiny badges,“ Elias supplied. “But a boy his age wouldn’t have been able to get that on his own.”
“So it’s highly likely that he has contacts within the office. And given that we’re dealing with a young’un here, my best bet is that it’s someone living under the same roof as him.”
That made Elias halt in his tracks. “Is that why you let him go? So we could follow him home?”
Yun shifted his weight. “Maybe?”
Elias’ face fell. “You’re not seriously thinking about barging into some random kid’s house, are you?”
“It’s not exactly ‘barging’ if humble tourists come to your door to ask for directions, is it?”
His frown crumbled deeper. “That’s probably one of the worst cover-up stories you’ve ever made.”
Yun lightly shrugged. “If you come up with something better, which I highly doubt, feel free to tell me.”
“And if they really buy this nonsense about travelers specifically coming to their doorstep to ask for help, what then? Do we even know who exactly it is that we’re looking for?”
“In our little talk earlier, the boy mentioned that he only lives with his father,” Yun said, moving towards the route the kid had gone to. “So if I’m right, we already know who we’re looking for.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“Then perhaps that’s what a bodyguard is for.” Yun smirked.
Elias rolled his eyes. “Fantastic.”
And so they marched on, following the dirt path leading to the boy’s house. It wasn’t really a long walk; just a short street leading to a residential area behind the establishment buildings lined on the main street. If things went in their favor, they’d be leaving with new intel about the Capital’s ins and outs. If things went south, well, there’s always the option of leaving witnesses unconscious and hightailing it out before they were further exposed on their bluff.
After all, it was why Yun chose to let the kid go and bother themselves with locating the next best source of information.
It was definitely not because of the rope burns around the young boy’s wrists and the bruises that were barely visible under his shirt’s collar.
But the way he caught Elias shooting him a mildly contemplative glance from the corner of his eye, told Yun that the swordsman knew: this was definitely all about that.
They had an agreement.
It was a flimsy agreement at most, if Elias was being honest, because no matter how much they tried to avoid the subject, it still became a huge elephant in the room.
Like during that one incident at a traveler's inn, for example.
“How long will you be staying?” The person at the front desk, a woman who seemed too bubbly for that time of the night, had asked them.
“Just until morning,” Yun replied, his good-natured smile plastered on.
“And that fellow over there?”
It had taken Elias approximately three solid seconds to realize that it was him the lady had been referring to, and three seconds more to understand what she was asking about by the suggestive expression on her face.
“Ah, he’s um—”
Yun faltered, struggling to find the right word that would suit whatever their cover-up was for tonight. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been easy to say that he was his bodyguard—which was the truth, but it would also be weird to say it in a public setting. Comrade might be good enough, though it would be saying it generously, and partner would be a very far stretch.
But it was easy before they found out about the soul bond. Their shared soul bond. The mere thought of it threw a wrench in their already embrittled alliance, and now anything related to how they were associated with each other clearly didn’t place them under ‘normal circumstances’ anymore.
“He—he’s a friend,” Yun blurted out, and Elias’ eyebrows nearly shot up to his hairline. “Yeah, he’s with me.”
That, Elias figured, was also a stretch.
Perhaps it was better, though. It might not sound accurate because, despite the rebellion and everything else that came with it, he and Yun were most certainly not friends. But he supposed the discomfort of that title was easier to bear than the fact that they were soulmates—the one thing that was still incredibly difficult to believe but allegedly proven true by the marks on their skin.
They didn’t discuss it. Not yet at least, especially with Anwei’s state of affairs growing critical by the day. If they wanted the fight to be over and done with soon, they couldn’t afford to be anchored by such trivial things just yet.
But still.
The first encounter with the government’s armed forces happened sooner than expected, blowing in with the frigid north wind. During another one of the rebellion’s reconnaissance missions, it swiftly occurred to them that the only way back out to safety was to fight their way through the stationed guards who were in the middle of their patrol. With the element of surprise on their side, it was the first time Elias witnessed the rebellion—or at least what Yun had managed to gather for now—in action, and he would only be lying to himself if he said that he wasn’t impressed.
It was also during that same day when he discovered that the group’s opinions didn’t align sometimes, even with Yun’s judgment being the only thing that mattered. When a plan was proposed to steer the armed troops to a dilapidated part of town—where casualties were predicted to be lesser due to civilian lives there being ‘less significant’—Elias was quick to disagree, much to the surprise of everyone else. Not only was he usually untalkative during these kinds of meetings, but this was the first time the rest of the coup had actually heard him raise an argument—firmly , at that.
He noticed Yun starting to watch him since then. To anyone else, it would’ve been dismissed as Yun’s habit of getting lost in his head and staring into space. But if you’re someone who’s set to have a fragment of your attention hyper-fixated at the supposed match of your soul at all times, it would be hard to ignore the staring. It just so happened that Elias was that ‘someone’.
Maybe that’s how Yun had noticed him quietly sneaking out of the camp in Valenmans after their most recent battle. The camp had been the better option instead of their headquarters, mainly because it happened to be closer and their group was in dire need of a respite. Elias could only hope that Yun didn’t see how he’d dropped his body to sit on a rock a little too heavily, or the wince he wasn’t able to squash when his stinging shoulder predictably protested at the movement.
“Far be it for me to criticize, but I never pegged you as a loner.”
Elias sucked in a breath. “Sure.”
Yun hummed curiously. “You’re not denying it.”
“Is that so surprising?”
“No, it’s just amusing to watch when you get all defensive.”
Oh, the nerve— “Well, in case it hasn’t occurred to you,” Elias fixed him with a stony look, “I don’t give a damn about what you think of me. And I don’t get defensive.”
“You want to test that?” Yun's eyes flashed in quiet challenge. “I could get Aleida here in no more than a minute if I tell her about that bleeding shoulder you insist on hiding from the med bay. See then if your claimed un-defensiveness can withstand an angry physician once she hears about this.”
He did see, then. Of course, Elias thought dryly to himself. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
Yun sighed. “This is hardly the time for bravado, Everstied.”
“What’s this about?” He drawled, exasperated. "I just wanted a little peace and quiet."
“I think you don’t want people seeing you weak, that’s what this is about. Did you get a blow to the head, too? Or was it only your pride that took the hit?”
“I’m fine,” Elias reiterated with more force, eyes sharpened to a glare. “This doesn’t need to concern anyone, especially Aleida.”
That gave Yun pause. “Oh?” He backpedaled, and Elias vehemently ignored the way his eyebrows dubiously climbed up his forehead. “Especially Aleida? Does she scare you, Everstied?”
Elias looked away. “Who doesn’t she scare, honestly,” he huffed.
He didn’t miss how Yun seemed to straighten at that, humming in thought. “Fair.”
Perhaps, if there was something worse than being forced to surrender to the ADP, it’d be placing one’s self at Aleida’s mercy. Everyone was always vigilant about not getting extensive injuries that warranted a visit to her medical tent. Elias would even daresay that his time at the dungeons served a far better fate than submitting himself to whatever the woman could do as soon as she found out that he’d gone on recklessly and gotten himself wounded.
Make no mistake, Aleida was a medical marvel. Many lives were saved because of her and her expertise. But it’s the reproaching lecture they’d always be getting an earful of whenever she’s tending to their injuries. It was always harsh, always too straightforward and imparting of her irritation and disapproval. Sometimes, it even unnervingly resembled that of a disappointed parent. She was gentle when needed, but at most times, she wouldn’t be above leaving you with a gaping wound wide enough to have your guts spilling over the floor. It came to a point that most of them would stop to wonder if the real threat resided at the heart of Anwei, governing over the people, or at the heart of the rebellion itself.
“You still need to have that gash checked, though.” Yun pointed out.
Elias rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I’ll live, thank you.”
“Not when you’re coloring the ground red, you won’t.”
“And since when were you an expert?”
“I’m not, but I have a good pair of eyes and a brain. Do you?”
Elias scoffed, but chose to not offer another reply. Any further and this would escalate into another argument, and Elias frankly didn’t have the energy for it now. Not far away from them, there was an oak tree with thick, long roots extending above ground. Maybe if he feigned interest in it, it would help Yun pick up the hint that he wanted this conversation over.
“Take off your coat.”
Now that made Elias turn so fast he swore he heard his neck crack. “What?”
“Your coat. Off.” Yun repeated.
“I heard you the first time.”
“Then you should’ve understood me perfectly.”
“No,” Elias straightened up, forehead wrinkling in confusion. “Why should I strip off my coat?”
“So I can take a look at your wound, what else?”
That’s not happening. “I don’t think so.”
“I don’t think you can tend to that injury with one of your arms incapacitated either,” Yun shot back.
“And what makes you think I need your help?”
“You really don’t want me making good on what I said about bringing Aleida here, Everstied.”
In no more than five seconds, the coat was on the ground, discarded, and Elias fixed his gaze back on the oak tree with fierce determination. He didn't look at Yun, lest he’d be driven by the urge to punch him. But he sensed him crouching down beside him, and he felt not the slightest modicum of pleasure at all when the distance between them narrowed significantly. He immediately felt the press of a wet cloth—something Yun seemed to have procured out of thin air—against his shoulder, wiping off the blood and disinfecting the gash. Elias scowled throughout the whole thing, barely holding himself back from lashing out at the smug look the other was having a very poor attempt at hiding.
Among everything else, this was what Elias hated the most. Rebellion aside, he absolutely hated the fact that Yun always found it easy to steer him to do his bidding. It did not help that Yun was also connected to him in a metaphysical sense. His wit was an asset, yes, but there were already too many instances where Elias wished nothing but to go back in time and knock some sense into his past self so he wouldn’t take back the Everstied relic from Yun. The extended sword had come with a proposition—or a ‘chance to make things right’, as Yun had fancily supplied—and, even if it was against his better judgment, Elias reckoned he could have gladly lived nonetheless even without taking it back.
“What happened back there?” Yun suddenly asked, gesturing to the wound.
Elias let out a noncommittal grunt. “Pincer attack.”
Yun paused. “Someone actually managed to catch you unguarded?”
“I’m not invincible, in case you didn’t know,” he deadpanned.
“I know that,” Yun said, returning to the gauze he was rolling out. “It’s just surprising that you let a soldier come up behind you, is all.”
Yun knew him well, he’d give him that.
It was odd, to say the least. Elias was always vigilant when he fought, to the extent that Yun had even attributed him once with an incredibly well-developed sixth sense. It was one of the many things that made him formidable on the battlefield.
But sometimes, even he had to admit that his focus wasn’t entirely fool-proof. He was injured because he’d been distracted—although he wasn’t about to tell Yun that.
“There were captives,” Yun started again, and Elias’ stomach all but dropped. “You saw them?”
He did. People, huddled in a cramped prison wagon with black bags covering their heads, their wrists held together in iron manacles. He didn’t know the offense that warranted their capture, but he was sure that they were civilians—men, women, and children alike. Noncombatants. And yet they were treated like they committed the greatest form of treason to the country.
The sight unearthed long-buried memories that Elias would’ve preferred to remain buried. And the next thing he knew, armed soldiers were advancing from both sides, barely snapping Elias back into reality as he parried the frontal assault and sidestepped the one from behind. The attack missed his back, but it still managed to nick his shoulder.
He realized soon that he hadn’t actually given Yun an answer, unintentionally letting the question hang in the air. But Yun surprisingly didn’t complain.
When the gauze was pressed to his shoulder, a sharp rush of prickling pain made him flinch, tearing a hiss from his lips.
He didn’t miss how Yun coincidentally jumped beside him when he did. “Sorry,” Yun briskly muttered, turning back to the gauze with a now more apparent frown on his face.
Elias felt it then—a tide of worry, distant and fleeting. It washed through him over an undercurrent of unease, emotions that definitely weren’t his.
He shifted on his seat once he felt Yun’s hands leave his shoulder for good, the gauze now set firmly in place. A question arose in his throat, but Yun was already standing before he could get a word out. Yun gathered the med kit in one arm, giving Elias one solitary nod. And then, without further ado, he turned on his heel, making his way back to camp to give Elias some time alone. It wasn’t discussed, but Yun knew he needed it anyway.
He didn’t even let Elias thank him.