Chapter Text
The Flagship is typically much to noisy and populated for Flins taste. Yet time and time again he finds himself walking through those doors, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of his new drinking partner. He is rarely disappointed. The only thing Mondstaters love more than their freedom is their alcohol. So, he isn't surprised to see Varka already at the bar, drink in hand, with one next to him for Flins.
Flins sits in his spot beside the man, not at all shocked when Varka wraps an arm around his shoulder a second later. "My friend! Finally decided to join me tonight. Got you what I'm having, hope that's alright."
"I shall defer to your superior taste." Flins says with a small smile. He liked this, being expected, being welcome. It wasn't a feeling he was often allowed to have. He accepts the drink offered, wishing only briefly that the wine wouldn't burn off in seconds. Maybe then he'd be brave enough to loosen his tongue.
Varka grins widely, "Also, I got you a little something."
He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small box, inside is a golden pendant shaped like a wolf, the eye of it inlaid with a gem as blue as Varka's own eyes.
"For your little corvid tendencies." Varka says with a smile. "Figured you'd want something to remember me by when I move back to Mond in a few months."
"I appreciate you thinking of me," Flins pockets the gift, though he doesn't really like the reminder that Varka was leaving him sooner rather than later. "It must have cost you a lot."
"Don't even worry about it!" Varka says with a laugh. "Its the least I could do for such a good friend."
"I see," Flins says taking a sip of his wine. He doesn't like how the words good friend make him feel, a hollow feeling settles in his gut that he doesn't know how to react to.
"Of course that isn't for a long while yet, so you'll have to deal with me for just a little while longer." Varka says, draining his cup. He gestures for Demyan to pour him another.
Flins smiles, "You say that as if I do not equally seek out your company."
The two lapse into a proper conversation that lasts long into the night. Though the strange feeling doesn't go away. Instead it gets worse, with Varka being equally friendly to Flins as he is with any other knight that happens to appear for a few moments.
Flins has never been one to lie. Especially not to himself. He knows why he seeks Varka's company, he knows why he feels warm in the knights presence, he knows why his heart races even at the most friendly of touches. Despite their penchant for mischief, fae are also known to be hopeless romantics, and Flins is desperately, hopelessly, in love.
It hurts, knowing that the Knight of Boreas will never truly be his.
~
Later in the night, though possibly in the morning, in the safety of his lighthouse he takes out the pendant holding it up to the lantern to inspect it. When he does, the gem inlaid in the eye of the wolf appears to glow slightly. Not unlike the way Varka's eye light up as he laughs, only tipsy even after a night of drinking. He sets the pendant down, there was no need for his thoughts to linger on the Grandmaster.
Though he very much wishes too. Every time he is around the man he is more and more certain of his feelings towards him. To picture Varka beneath him, naked and breathless, dazed and vulnerable is a sin. Still Flins simply can not help himself. Varka awakens something within him that he hasn't felt in years. A need to touch, to hold, to cover the man in feather-light kisses before leaving him boneless on the mattress tears trough him.
He reaches down, taking himself in hand. Picturing just the one simple image of Varka. How he imagines him blissed out, boneless on the bed of Flins's lighthouse. It doesn't take much effort for him to orgasm, temporary relief quickly squashed by the guilt he feels as he wipes off his hands.
He will never be able to have Varka like that. The Grandmaster belongs to a lot of people, and Flins will never hold such a special space in his heart. There was not a chance in any world that Varka would possibly fall for someone inhuman like Flins. Not when he can have the warmth of anyone else by his side.
Flins feels something scratch at his throat. His chest spasms and he coughs into his hand. The strange sensation of something dislodging from his lungs makes him feel rather nauseous. He looks at his hand, a small red petal sitting on his palm.
Ice cold fear runs down his spine as Flins stares at the petal. While the disease was rare in humans, fae often fell so deeply in love that it was common amongst them. Even the Belyi Tsar himself once had it, though he survived his encounter. They simply called it the flower sickness, and while Flins knew more modern books romanticized it, he knew for someone in his position that it was fatal. A death sentence for loving someone he can not have.
He closes his hand around the petal. He doesn't know if he can even die anymore. He hopes that the magic will be merciful to him, that it won't make him suffer longer than necessary.
Flins picks up the pendant once more, turning it around in his hand. Varka is a kind man, it would crush him to know that he was the cause of one of his friend's suffering. So Flins resolves to make sure that no matter the cost, Varka must never know.