Night's Blessings

night's blessings

in which baur and lilia observe a half-fae caring for a human, said half-fae happened to be sebek. (alternatively, sebek reflects on the fragility of human life as he looks at the scars you obtained from the overblots). sebek zigvolt x fem reader (takes place in book 7) warnings: characters are depicted as 18+, violence at the beginning, minor injuries for the prefect, wounds, nudity (applying bandages) note: as per the poll, i knew this wasn't the most voted one but the results were divided into quarters! it's practically also another winner! (that, and it was half done when i picked it up again tonight. been very busy with final assignments, but i wanted to pump something out!)

"Incoming!"

The dreamscape just felt so surreal, and so did the danger that came with it. The Silver Owls just kept coming, some even daring to resort to swords rather than magic. With what training he had with the art of the sword, Sebek and Silver had been keeping up with the other Fae. The objective was merely to survive the dream and protect Lilia at all costs. After all, without their key, they shall never leave this world.

Sebek does not register the footsteps creeping up behind him. It is only when he sees the shadow behind him grow bigger and bigger, followed by the blade that was certain to smite him in half. He was far too slow, and his enemy had already obtained an advantage from leaping at higher ground. Shutting his eyes, he prepares himself to withstand the pain, but it never comes.

Instead, he is shoved onto the ground and a small yelp is what is registered into his sensitive ears. It is almost instinct; the way he swings behind him to expel the Ironclad onto the ground until it stopped attempting to get up. Having flung that soldier onto a tree does Sebek finally get the chance to look upon the one that shielded him from what could have been a fatal blow.

Much to his disappointment and horror, it is you clutching onto your shoulder on the dirty ground, and not another royal guardsman.

"PREFECT!"

His cry was so loud that it had caught the attention of almost everyone in the vicinity, yourself included. Groaning from the ache pulsing on your skin, you craned your head upwards to face Sebek whose face was contorted with distraught and fear. You cough out, eyes trailing to your sleeve which had been torn from the blade. "I'm fine. I'm fine." You muttered amidst winces, attempting to disguise the sting of the wounds afflicted on your shoulder.

Before you could move another inch, Sebek hissed as he stopped you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in an attempt to support you. "You're hurt! We must take care of your wound before we proceed any further." The battle had since died down, aside from the few stragglers who had either been fleeing or engaging in a battle that could not be won. You want to tell the half-fae that you were more than capable of getting up on your own, but the gash running down your skin makes you hiccup on your words.

Then the worst situation you could possibly be in happens— Baur approaches with an unimpressed expression. "Your human companion is wounded." He sneers, and your heart sinks at his glare. You lower your head, unwilling to find the strength to argue with a higher-up, not to mention Sebek's grandfather. "You are better off abandoning her now. We have nothing that could possibly aid her kind." It was the most logical explanation. Considering how much vulnerable humans can be compared to fae, a slight injury on a human must appear as a death-sentence. Could medicines for fae even work on humans? It seemed even more unlikely.

Before you could even register a response, Sebek grunts and gently tightens his grip around you. There is a pained expression on his face, almost shame as he looks away from his grandfather's disappointed frown. That slight gesture was all that Baur needed to know before he snorts in disgust, turning his back on the half-fae before approaching his troops. You could only hiss in soft whispers, shaking your head as you make an attempt to rise once more.

"I can handle my own, Sebek. It's really okay." You croak, but Sebek's grip never loosens. Instead, he glares at you as if you committed a slight upon him. "No. You are the one that shielded me. Therefore, you are now under my responsibility." He manages to say, but you hear the slight tremble in his tone as he feels your body jerk from the pain.

He wastes no time in shrugging you onto his back, gentle yet firm hands hooked underneath your knees. You could easily feel the outline of his biceps through his uniform, but it was to be expected of a half-fae that could carry eight chairs at a time. "I would be most ashamed if I abandoned you here." He tells you, trudging through damp mud as the army begins to regroup.

Needless to say, Baur could not hold back his tongue once he caught sight of Sebek. "Boy, you are carrying a corpse." Oddly enough, the comment does not sting as hard as it should have. Rather, his tone was laced with a necessary sort of poison that Sebek's mother had tasted long ago when she chose to marry his father. "Even if she survives, she will be dead long before you come to pass." And Sebek knows he means well. Prejudice aside, what kind of fae would ever want to endure an eternity of suffering, for only a few moments spent with a mortal human?

What was the point of caring for a life that would disappear in the blink of an eye?

"It makes no difference to abandon her here or let her die later." It takes everything within Sebek's power to keep his head down. This was only a dream, but to hear such harshness from his grandfather was a jab to his chest, nonetheless. It was the cold hard truth, but he still maintains his firm grip on the Prefect. For a moment, he considers talking back, hoping to reason with this memory, but the dreamer stops him.

"That's enough, Baur. You've made your point." Lilia interjected as he came into view, taking a quick glance at the Prefect's lulling head. Your eyebrows were knitted together from the pain, and you could only withstand so much of the pounding in your ears. You don't notice the way Baur's jaw tightens when Lilia brushes past him, seemingly nonchalant. "The human is their responsibility. Who are we to meddle in their internal affairs?" But Baur only looks out for his own kind, even for this strange half-fae.

"We shall set up camp nearby to heal our own wounded. We need to recuperate for the next skirmish."

He fears that this half-fae is digging his own grave by caring for something so short-lived. "Hmph." Turning his back on Sebek, Baur carries on into the distance.

For all the boisterous noises he makes, Sebek is silent as he struggles to find his footing once more. You stir, letting out the quietest of sighs that send shivers down his spine. He fears for you. The limitations of the dreamscape are lost on him, but the pain he felt in this world felt just as real as it would in the real world.

That damned copper scent is clouding his judgement now, and it grows thicker for each second you are left untreated. You aren't dying, but he thinks it is the end of the world for a human. You aren't a beastman. You aren't Silver, either.

He can hear the whispers of the fae as they pass him by, heads turning slightly with each one overtaking him on the road. Sebek feels at unease, and he knows that this world thinks you will die. Lilia thinks you will die here from such a cut. It takes a long glance at Silver's reassuring expression to restore some confidence in the half-fae. Of course, the Prefect will live. The Prefect is strong, having survived six overblots now, after all.

You finally regain your voice when Sebek settles you into a tent. With only an oil lamp to provide light. You realize that your top is stained red when you attempt to sit up, wincing as you feel your skin stretch with each movement. Sebek is beside you, crouched down as he supports your back with a trembling hand. There is already a bundle of linen prepared on the cot, and you could only hold back a whimper when your hand fumbles with the buttons of your jacket.

A gloved hand stops you, and you could only register Sebek's fearful expression illuminated by candlelight. "It's really alright, Sebek. I can do this on my own." He hates that tone of yours. He has hated it ever since he first heard it when you reassure Grim that the alchemy accident was not his fault. He's hated it whenever you used it on the Heartslabyul first years when they come crawling to you for help. He detests the way you use it to reassure others that you can shoulder burdens on your own.

You are a human, after all. "You will tear the wound even further if you try to do it this way." He pleads, expression contorted with pain as if he were the wounded one. "You saved my life. At least let me repay you with this." He watches as your expression softens, your own hand lowering to your lap. Quietly, you nod and allow your shoulders to relax with an exhale. "Alright, Sebek."

That smile— it hurts Sebek when you even dare to give him a smile when you are in pain.

"I trust you."

He does not dare to breach and abuse the vulnerability you had presented him with. Gloves long discarded to the side, your eyes are fixated on the callouses on his knuckles as his trembling fingers grasp the buttons of your jacket. Sebek's mind swirls into a sort of mental turmoil that crashes against him in waves.

The Prefect was always so strong, he never denied that. To have you in his care, so vulnerable, it twists his heart in all sorts of directions. Gently, he tugs the jacket off to gaze upon the bloodied blouse. Sweat is beading down the side of his temples when he steels himself once more, putting you above his heart as he moves to unfasten the buttons once more.

There is nothing indecent about this gesture, and there is nothing but awe and pain across Sebek's face as he strips the cloth away from your skin. Swallowing a breath, the half-fae's eyes bore into yours once more, waiting for something. It does not take long for you to realize that he was merely asking for permission, and you nod once more. You do not realize that you have leaned forward into his warmth as he reaches around, unclasping the garment from your torso. All you could focus on was his strict controlled breaths and the way his eyes were held shut.

Sebek does not know whether he should feel relieved or embarrassed when you turn yourself around, facing your back towards him. Instead, it is awe and worry that overtakes his mind as his gaze fixates onto a faded scar just below the fresh one made by that Ironclad. His breath hitches, and so does yours when his hand gently dabs a wet cloth against the bloodied site.

"Hah," You gasped. Sebek's hand stills as you twitch, curling onto your knees as the pain came in waves. It was not a major cut, but a fresh and open one at that. You continue to squirm with each press of the cloth, and he needs you to be still. He does not say another word when he shifts close, wrapping an arm across your shoulders to hold you against his chest.

The gesture was not unwelcome. You do not register the way he stills when your hands grip onto his forearm, clinging for some sort of leverage and relief. He cannot bring himself to voice an apology, not when all he hears is your hitched breaths and hisses with each dab to your arm. You smell nothing but rain and thunder by your ear as he presses against the side of your shoulder, pressing and pressing until the site was as clean as he could make it.

His gentle touch does not surprise you one bit, not when he carefully wraps the dry linen against your wound. Perhaps you hear a sigh of relief when you have calmed against his chest, eyes fixated onto the candlelight. It only took you the shift of his chin to notice how he seemed to have let you rest against the crook of his neck as he managed his handiwork. His chest falls and rises, synced in with your own breaths.

You don't feel as cold as you should be.

"What are these, Prefect?" A quiet voice cuts through the silence, almost hesitant and unsure. Sebek's hand had been holding onto your forearm the entire time, his thumb overlapping these ringed imprints on your arm. You shift slightly, sitting up now. His cheek is so close to yours now, barely hovering when his eyes are trained onto your forearm. "That one is from that one time Azul grabbed me during his overblot." You hummed. Not another thought passes through your mind when you raise the opposite arm, presenting a faded burn mark across your upper arm. "That wound is from the Island of Woe."

"Are there more?" It was an unexpected question from the half-fae, but the concern was not unwanted. Maybe it was because of your exhaustion or the gentle flicker of the candle, but you relent by shifting your body forward, providing him a view of your back. You hear a soft gasp leave his throat, followed by your calm hums vibrating from your throat.

"May I?"

"Yes."

You didn't even know what he requested for to begin with. It starts with a gentle touch against an old wound caused by the Queen of Heart's thorny roses. His palm is so calloused, but it does not bring you discomfort when he traces the scar to claw marks obtained from the second overblot you witnessed. Sebek does not need to glance at your legs to count the many more times you had nearly lost your life due to the negligence of your classmates.

"Tsk." He clicks his tongue, and you turn around in an attempt to face him. "Sebek?" He does not let you see his face, not when he draws forward to rest head onto your nape, almost ashamed to meet you in the eye. After a sharp breath, Sebek's jaw clenches with an ache in his heart. "To think that a magicless human like you remained so resilient in the face of so many tribulations," He murmured, his bare hands resting upon your shoulders. "Your courage compares to even a thousand fae knights."

He swallows to himself. "I cannot think to imagine myself in your position. You are human. You will likely die long before I do." You feel his breath shudder against your skin. "And yet, you still risked your life to protect me."

It takes you aback when both his hands latch onto your forearms, gripping with the threat to squeeze with all his strength. And yet, he holds himself back. "Don't you understand how fragile your life is? It is a precious thing you shouldn't throw away on a whim!" It cracks a giggle out of you when you hear that overbearing tone of his once more. For a moment, it seemed like the gravity of the situation had disappeared, and Malleus hadn't put everyone to sleep.

"Prefect, I am not joking with you right now! You could have gotten killed!"

"That's what I said to myself too when I went to the Island of Woe for Grim." Sebek pauses, feeling you shift yourself around to face him. The color has restored to your face now, and it brings him such relief to see an expression that was not contorted in some sort of agony.

"I'm not brave, Sebek. Not like you," You admit, licking your chapped lips as you attempt to gather your words. "but I do care about you. I care enough about my friends to do such reckless things." He hates the way his heart clenches when you smile at him this way. "What point is my life if I can't spend it with the ones that bring me joy?"

He wants to argue with you. He would have loved to spend an entire evening lecturing you on why it is not an excuse to put yourself in dangerous situations. When you smile at him like everything is going to be okay, however, he cannot bring himself to even glower at your naive words.

With a sigh, Sebek's head falls and he gives out a sigh of defeat. It is enough to draw a chuckle from your chest as you pat his hand comfortingly. "Well, I can't exactly repay your kindness right now. You cleaned up my wound for me."

Sebek immediately sits up, crossing his arms. "Fret not, a thanks isn't necessary." There was very little wiggle room for negotiation. "I insist!" You tell him, but that stern expression of his will not allow you to lift a finger to return the favor. Mimicking his strict disposition, you cross your arms in a mocking fashion before an idea comes across your mind.

"I am no fae, but may I bestow upon you a blessing?" Sebek snorts, but his gaze softens at your eager expression. "If it shall satisfy you, Prefect." Back straightened, he glares at you with a slight warning. "Keep in mind, you are only a human and bluntly, magicless. I shall receive the intent of your blessings, but do not find yourself disappointed should there be no effect."

It happens too quickly in Sebek's mind. You leant forward, a gentle hand on his cheek as your lips brush against his cheek. They are soft and warm, and it is a feeling he quickly chases after as soon as it leaves. His eyes are wide as he pulls away to stare at your flushed cheeks. You haven't moved away at all, opting to lean into his ear as your warm breath tickles his neck.

"Thank you, Sebek. Night's blessings."

"I—" He couldn't control his own hand from brushing against the spot where the Prefect had kissed him. A part of him threatened to explode, but he does not think that would even be possible. "Prefect, you..." Sebek croaked out, feeling his ears turn red as it clicks. His jaw unhinges with shock, but the rejection never comes. Instead, he lets out a deep sigh.

With a gentle hand, he takes your knuckles and pulls them to his lips, much like a knight would do his maiden. He allows his kiss to linger for only a moment before returning it to your side. Sebek cannot meet your eyes like this, not when his face is melting with heat and all he needs is fresh air to calm his poor heart.

"I shall guard your tent for the time being. Rest well, and I shall see to it that you are recovered once we depart."

When Sebek exits the tent, he does not notice the two figures standing in the dark behind the Prefect's tent. Lilia leans against the tree, his curiosity satisfied. Baur, on the other hand, stares at the ground with discomfort. "Humans are fragile creatures. They make up for their fragility with their numbers." The taller man says, reminding himself rather than his companion.

Lilia snorted, crossing his arms with a small grin. "And said fragile human actually protected that fae."

"Truly?"

"I saw it with my own two eyes. She jumped in the way of an Ironclad and allowed herself to take the hit without a care for her fragile life."

With a loud huff, Baur shook his head and allowed his eyes to fixate onto the tent. The scent of the Prefect's blood still lingered in the air. "Absurd." Lilia does not miss the way Baur's eyes softened, and he wonders if his fellow soldier shed the very same concern that Sebek did for his companion.

"She won't live very long like that."

"... Sebek, you're glowing!"

"What was that, Grim?!" It had only been a few moments since you finally left your tent, seated across a campfire when you hear Sebek scream from a distance.

"I AM GLOWING." Your eyes widened with surprise. It wasn't a joke— a soft golden glow had enveloped Sebek who seemed to have gathered the attention of the fae. You watched as his surprised expression morph into one of pride. He beams, puffing out his chest with that obnoxious laughter he emits whenever he felt haughty.

"I SUPPOSE I AM! I AM GLOWING WITH THE STRENGTH OF A THOUSAND SOLDIERS!"

Unbeknownst to you, the fae soldiers had been taking quick glances back at you amongst their chatter.

"The human is truly capable of bestowing a blessing?!" One clicks, and his companion grunts in response. "'Maiden's Kiss', remember? Maidens are capable of it, as long as their intents are true."

"Maybe we should ask her for a blessing too..."

"Get in line!"