Night is falling when the village finally comes into view. Asher pauses, squinting at the houses nestled into the hills ahead. A path winds down to it, lit in soft gold. It seems innocent enough. He twists around. The sun bleeds into the horizon behind them, reaching tendrils of red into the dimming sky. Nathan's silhouetted against it, his face cast in shadow.

"Are you sure about this?" Asher asks hesitantly.

"Y-yes. I think." Nathan put his gloves on moments before; now he tugs at the cuffs, as if they don't already swallow his thin wrists. "If I'm going to find her, I need help. The people there must know something about where Oscensi's soldiers are."

"If we aren't in Neyaibet right now, that is." The kingdom's name shapes oddly on Asher's tongue. He digs his fingernails into his palms, unease itching down his spine.

Nathan swallows, his dark eyes fixed upon the village. Fear that mirrors Asher's swirls within them. "I don't think we are. But you don't have to come," he adds hurriedly. "If you don't want to."

"We went over this. Strength in numbers, remember?" Asher forces a weak smile. It doesn't matter to him which side of a war this town is on. If Rivas is still chasing him—and Asher has a terrible feeling he is—being recognized by anybody will be dangerous. But wandering aimlessly won't do much good either, and Nathan needs help.

"Right. Yes." Nathan takes a deep breath and lifts his chin, a certain determination flickering in his eyes. Still, his shoulders draw inward as he strides forward, like he's trying to shield himself from a coming blow. The way he walks, looks around—every movement twitches with nerves.

But he's moving. Asher clenches his hands and follows, a pang of guilt driving through his heart. Nathan's gone through so much more, and yet he still has a goal. He's not running, not scrambling from place to place to stay alive, but protecting someone. It's braver than anything Asher's done. He tugs at his cloak before following, casting a glance over one shoulder.

As they near the village, Nathan slows. Asher follows his gaze to see dozens of delicate yellow flowers sprinkled across the ground on either side of the path. Their petals sway a little in the wind, shining bright even as the daylight dies.

Asher crouches down to pluck one, turning it between his fingers. "Flowers? In winter?"

"That's not normal," Nathan says. He seems excited to say it; perhaps it's one of the few things he knows about the world outside of his cell.

Asher curls his fingers tighter around the flower's stem. He can't imagine what Nathan's life must've been like, trapped in unending darkness. "No, it's not."

"They're pretty." Nathan's voice comes quiet, edged with something like awe.

"Yes." Some of the darkness twisted around Asher's chest loosens as he looks at the blossom. After a moment, he tucks it behind his ear. Weaving flowers into one's hair is only possible during the summer in Eldernia, since the plants don't grow well at any other time of year. This feels almost like a sign of luck. It would be a waste to not take advantage of it.

A smile brushes across Nathan's face, faint but there. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt and looks away. "That looks nice."

"Oh. Thank you." Asher raises a hand to the flower, suddenly self-conscious of its presence. But if Nathan likes it, then maybe... He bends down to pick another flower and holds it out. "Here."

Nathan stares at the plant for a moment, and then hesitantly stretches his hand out. He moves carefully, avoiding Asher's fingers as he takes it, and then stares at the flower. Wonder edges his smile as he pushes it behind his ear as well. The sunny yellow is a stark contrast to Nathan's deathly pale skin and strange, black gaze, but it brings out a certain light in his eyes. A spark of life.

"It suits you," Asher says. Then he looks closer, and a laugh trips past his lips.

"What?" Nathan's eyes widen a little, and he tucks his arms against his chest. "D-did I do it wrong?"

"No, no, it's not that," Asher snickers. "It's just... you put it behind your left ear."

"Oh. Sorry?" Nathan frowns, reaching for the flower.

"You don't have to—it's not—" Asher presses a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. "I'm sorry. It's just that... in Eldernia, that means you have a girlfriend."

Nathan blinks, and a deep red immediately rises to color his cheeks. He hurriedly puts the flower behind his other ear. "Sorry."

"We need to stop apologizing to each other." Asher's laugh dies in his throat as he turns back to the village. "Besides, I doubt it matters here. This isn't the same country."

"Yes, you're probably right." Nathan straightens a little, his fingers falling from his ear as he takes a step forward.

Asher shakes his head and follows, fiddling with his hands as they pass the first house. The town is larger and more cramped than anything he's seen before—the buildings are taller, their structure utterly foreign in design. Candles illuminate the windows in most of the houses, the flames' amber luminance fighting the coming night. Nathan shivers away from them, terror worming into his expression. The sentiment isn't hard for Asher to understand. When dark falls, nothing is more revealing than a pool of light. He stays in the shadows with Nathan.

Despite the fading sunlight, life persists on the streets. Asher's skin prickles whenever he and Nathan pass someone. Threads of nervousness cinch around his stomach, but no matter where he looks, he can't quite find the source. Perhaps it's the strain of being around so many people, the thought of how much he has to hide. If they look closer, maybe they would see the fear in his eyes. Notice that, with his Eldernian clothes and a flower behind one ear, he doesn't belong. Something. But their gazes slide away from him, as if he's barely more than a shadow.

Except one. Asher sees a man walking toward them from the other end of the street, his brown hair tousled by the wind. There's a strange glint in his gaze, but it doesn't linger on Asher. It takes him a long moment to realize that the man's staring at Nathan.

Asher grabs the younger boy's wrist without thinking, and then winces when Nathan lets out a sharp gasp. Right. He's not used to physical contact. Still, Asher tugs him into a quicker stride. One breath: the man looks away, his expression shifting into indifference. Asher doesn't trust it. A second lungful of air, and they've passed him. Asher glances over his shoulder when they reach the next corner, making sure that the man isn't following, before slipping around the turn. He immediately lets Nathan go; guilt floods his chest at the dizzy fear in the boy's eyes.

"Sorry," Asher gasps out, resisting the urge to peer back around the corner. "I'm sorry." His hand wanders to his chest, twisting the fabric of his shirt as he waits for the panic in his head to clear.

"What happened?" Nathan cringes into the nearest wall, his gloved fingers scrabbling at the wood.

Asher tightens his grip on his shirt. Stupid. It was stupid to react so strongly. He looks around, grateful that the few other people on the street aren't paying much attention. "I-I thought I saw a man looking at us," he manages to gasp out. "But he didn't follow. I'm... just on edge, I suppose. Sorry."

"It's okay." Nathan's voice comes soft and brittle. He rubs the back of his neck, his fingers dancing across the hood attached to the back of his tunic. In a swift, jerky motion, he yanks it over his head.

Asher's lingering panic drowns out any response. He settles for an awkward, apologetic nod before moving on, tracing a jagged path down an alley. Focus. They need to find someone to get help, but he can't bring himself to approach a stranger. Not yet. Not after what just happened. And what would he say if he did? They have no name, and only the barest notion of the world around them. To find one girl in a war... it's next to impossible.

He grits his teeth, glancing around as the street abruptly opens into a large square. Everything feels so pointless. Sure, he wants to help Nathan. But he has no way of doing it. He doesn't even know how to solve his own problems—all he's proven to be decent at is running away.

Nathan shifts, one arm curling around his stomach. His eyes dart across the square, and he draws to a halt. Asher follows his gaze to a group of people gathered on the street. Some sort of stall has been set up there—fruit is laid out atop a long table, shaded by a cloth held up by four posts. A rope is strung between the wooden rods. Strips of dried meat hang from it.

Asher freezes, his own hunger abruptly making itself known. They'd shared what little Fiesi had in his bag the previous day, but it hadn't been enough. He eyes the people at the stand, catching the glint of copper coins changing hands. They look similar to Eldernian currency, but that's meaningless. He has nothing, anyways.

"Can we... get some?" Nathan's question comes quiet, but the yearning behind it is clear.

"I don't suppose you have any money?"

"Money?" Confusion flashes across Nathan's face.

"To... nevermind," Asher says. Apprehension tightens around his stomach as his gaze wanders back to the stall. It's as good a place as any to ask questions: they'd stand out less in a crowd. And, as uneasy as the thought makes Asher feel, they can also beg for food. If that doesn't work, well... he's a fast runner. He takes a hesitant step forward.

Nathan doesn't follow. His eyes are wide and unfocused as he stares at the crowd around the stall. Asher stiffens when he realizes the other boy is gasping for breath. Right. People. Contact.

Twisting his hands together, Asher scans the crowd. A part of it is thinner, mostly devoid of people—he points at it and casts Nathan a questioning glance. The boy nods, relief clear in his eyes.

"I'll... get some food. And I'll also ask him about your girl." Asher gestures beyond the crowd to a narrow, dark street. "Wait over there and I'll meet you."

Nathan opens his mouth to say something, but closes it. He offers a hesitant nod before pulling away. Asher watches as he scampers to the street he'd pointed out, keeping his distance from the other people in the square.

Taking a deep breath, Asher presses forward. There's a man and woman running the stall, chatting with members of the crowd drifting past and wrapping meat. He drifts around the stall for a moment, unsure how to snare their attention. His magic, fueled by nerves, prickles through his veins with a sharp warmth. It takes some effort to shove it back.

Gathering himself, he ducks through the crowd to the edge of the cart. His eyes snag on the apples on the table, and the meat dangling just overhead. He curls his fingers into the bottom of his shirt, twisting the thin fabric between his hands.

"Hey." The man turns to greet him with a smile. "What can I get you?"

Asher gnaws at his lip, feeling heat creep into his face. How is one supposed to beg? "I... I need help."

The man looks him up and down, from his messy hair to his worn shoes. After a long moment, he nods at the woman beside him and leaves the cart, gesturing for Asher to follow. They don't go very far, stopping several paces away where it's less packed. The man folds his arms, tilting his head. His expression remains indecipherable. "What is it?"

Asher shifts his weight from foot to foot, unease prickling across his skin. Information first. "I'm looking for an Oscensi soldier. A girl." He bites his lip, knowing full well some random shopkeeper isn't the best place to ask. "I... don't know how to go about finding her."

A frown draws across the man's face. "Are... are you here alone?"

"Oh. Right," Asher says, fumbling with what he knows for a halfway decent explanation. There's a war going on. Teenage boys probably don't wander alone here—they certainly don't in Eldernia. Oscensi has suffered a fatal defeat. "I'm, ah, looking for my sister. We got separated when the... when the castle fell. Yes."

The man stares at him for a long moment, then nods. "I'm sorry, but I don't know. I herald the fighting was scattered even before Polevis fell... but there might be others who know. What's your sister's name? I might've heard of her."

Asher freezes, a curse nearly escaping his tongue. He can't exactly say I don't know. "Hannah," he says after a second. It's undoubtedly the wrong name, but it's not as if he can supply a better one.

"Ah... no, that doesn't ring any bells." The man sighs, still watching him. "Do you have anywhere to stay while you're here?"

"No, but I won't be staying," Aeden says hastily, barely biting back the word we. He doesn't need to bring Nathan into this. "I need to find her. She could be in danger, or..." He trails off, glancing at the stall. It's now or never. "But, um. I don't have food. Or coins."

The man is silent for a little too long. Then he turns, striding back to the cart. Asher cringes, worried he's going to call for guards or something, but he only takes down a piece of meat and an apple before walking back. He holds them out, his eyes startlingly kind. "If you're having trouble later, come back here. All right?"

Asher's throat tightens as he dips his head, hesitantly taking the food. "Thank you. I... I wish I could pay," he finishes lamely. If things were different, if he didn't have Nathan and wasn't being chased, he'd have tried to offer his labor.

The man only smiles. "I hope you find your sister."

"Thank you," Asher manages. In his panic, he hadn't thought about what he was saying, but the words strike him like a physical blow. Find your sister. If only he could. But Hannah was in a place he couldn't follow. Not yet. Offering a hesitant wave to the man, he turns tail and flees back into the crowd, making his way back to Nathan. Hot grease slithers between his fingers as they tighten around the meat, a sharp contrast to the numb bite of the winter air.

He glances from side to side, and sees a man with brown hair watching him. The same man he'd seen before, whose mere presence sent a nonsensical wave of fear coursing through Asher's body. He stiffened and burst into a sprint without thinking, pure instinct egging him on. His magic crackles at his fingers, ready to tear free if he doesn't control himself.

Asher nearly falls into the street he'd pointed out to Nathan, skidding across the cobbles. Panic jolts through him: it's empty. Then the darkness shifts to his right, and Nathan materializes from the shadows, still buried in his hood.

"Are you okay?" Nathan's voice is soft, fear hissing beneath.

Asher nods, relief shuddering through him, and snatches Nathan's arm to drag him into a run. He clutches the food to his chest, stealing a glance over his shoulder. The man is nowhere in sight.

Still, Asher keeps running. As soon as another street opens to the left, he darts down it with Nathan. It's only after two more turns, when Nathan starts to stumble, that he slows to a trot. After a moment, he spots an enclosed alley and slips inside.

Nathan snatches his arm back when Asher lets go. He leans against the wooden wall and slides to the cobbles, his chest heaving. "What's wrong?"

"I..." Asher bites his lip, worming into the alley beside him. "I saw that same man, but he didn't follow us." He collapses beside Nathan and hands him the meat. His voice comes quieter than he meant. "Here."

A second passes before Nathan takes it. He hesitantly turns the food between his fingers before taking a bite. His eyes look darker than usual. They brighten a little as he eats, though, and he begins to stuff his face with it—as if he hasn't eaten properly in weeks. He probably hasn't.

Asher digs into the apple and draws his knees to his chest. The sweetness of the fruit is perfect, but his heartbeat refuses to slow. He takes a deep breath, focusing on Nathan as he eats, and can't help but snicker. "Don't choke on it."

"Oh..." Nathan mumbles around a mouthful of meat. He begins to chew slower, and then jolts. He offers the already half-eaten food to Asher. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No, no, I don't need it. The apple's enough," Asher says, and he means it. Even if it's smaller, having real, fresh fruit feels like he got the better half of the meal. He forces a smile, nudging Nathan's leg with the toe of his boot. "You deserve a good meal. And a bed." He knocks his head into the wall behind him, letting his eyes slide half-shut. "Actually, a bed sounds really nice right now."

"A bed?"

Asher halts midbite. "You don't know what a bed is?"

"Uh..." Nathan seems to think for a moment, and then lifts his head. "Wait. Yes, I-I've heard of them."

"The first chance you get, find a bed to sleep in." Asher wipes some juice from the corner of his mouth. "They're a lot better than dirt."

Nathan blinks as he finishes off the meat. He must've been starving to have eaten it all so quickly. "That sounds nice."

Asher tries for a grin. They eat the rest of the food in silence; and as uneasy Asher feels, it's a relief to have his stomach full. He exhales, letting his mind open to the magic around him to try and center himself. Silver currents stir to life before his eyes, though he can feel the energy more than he sees it. He watches them move about, taking comfort from the fact that they aren't all that different from Eldernia. This world is also filled with magic, even if it's a different kind.

A sharp yank on his sleeve jolts Asher from his thoughts. Nathan's cringing into the wall, his eyes on the entrance to the alley they've wedged themselves into. A man stands at its lip: a man with brown hair and eyes, a tawny cloak, and a predatory look in his eyes. There's two more behind him.

Asher scrambles to his feet, holding out an arm to block Nathan from them. "What do you want?" he snaps, not feeling the anger in his voice.

"Hmm. Feisty." The stranger gives them a sharp, too-wide grin. "Your attitude doesn't match that flower in your hair, kid."

"Answer me," Asher growls, and he glimpses the currents of magic in the air begin to draw towards him. He scanned the men before him, but none reacted—they didn't seem to be using any magic of their own, either. "What do you want?"

"It's simple, really." The brown-haired man's eyes drift from Asher to Nathan, and his grin widens. "I want him."

><><

Hiiii :D 

I have been a very bad crossover writer :/ It's been over a year and a half??? Unacceptable. I can't guarantee I'll be any better at continuing, but I can promise that I never really forgot about this side project. I've been needing a little push for a while—if you see the writing change partway through, that's because it's been half-finished the entirety of this past year. And I finally found that push, because today is Nathan's birthday! What better gift than flowers, right? Ignore the trauma, that's a given with him. And also ignore the random bad dude. Ash and Nathan can probably handle him, anyways. It's totally fine.

Man, it was fun to return to these boys.

Speaking of flowers, that scene has always been the highlight of this chapter in my head. It's just important to me. The angsty duo deserves flowers, and here's a commission of just that from TheConfusedTurtle! Nathan's hair is so floofy. Perfect for hair ruffling.