Or, Cor accidentally adopted a Nif general oops. 

1705 Words ~ General

Note: Had a 3am thought and ended up thinking about it too hard. Basically a what if scenario of Cor and Loqi meeting during the world of ruin in it’s early years, with Cor reflecting on just why he never actually finished off Loqi. I think on some level Cor became fond of him, and then my brain came up with reasons why. The main one being that Cor saw himself in Loqi. And of course I started thinking about Loqi having been a youngster when he joined the army, because he’s in his early 20′s canonically, and being discovered as a sword prodigy as well. Difference between them being Cor outgrew his hotheadedness. Loqi didn’t. 

Honestly, this was completely self indulgent. (I’m actually a little pleased that this week has been oddly productive for me.) 

Enjoy.

Cor looked down at the sleeping man. He was slumped against the wall of the diner, hidden behind the far end of the counter. His knees were curled up to his chest with one arm wrapped around them. Likely, he’d wake with a crick in his neck from his position. His other hand was wrapped around the hilt of his katana loosely, the grip slackened with sleep. The armor that the brigadier normally wouldn’t be caught dead without was nowhere in sight. Abandoned for more practical clothes now that the endless night called for stealth. Especially for people like him who refused to flee to safety.

He’d changed since the last time he’d seen him. Gone was the
patronizing hostility that was usually so present on his face, and instead
there was a weariness that even sleep wouldn’t erase. Dirt was smudged on his
cheeks from the time he’d been on the road, and he looked like he’d lost
weight. A sigh left him when the thought of Loqi being just a kid crossed his
mind again.

A kid that had tried to kill him multiple times, but still.

The first time he’d tried it, he remembered the bravado that
Loqi had when he’d leapt into the fight. A tiny teenager shouting about ending
the ‘great immortal’ for the empire. While someone, likely his handler, was
trying to shush him and talk him out of what was a bad idea. It had made for a
surreal experience. But then Loqi had actually attacked. And to his surprise, he’d
been good with the blade. More so than Cor might have been at that age.

…That didn’t mean that Cor didn’t flatten him though.

When the kid had been beaten down to the point of collapse,
he had clearly expected Cor to end him. With how he was curled up against the
wall right now reminded him of then. He’d been on his knees, his hand holding
the hilt of his sword tightly. He was slightly slumped forward, but that didn’t
stop him from trying to glare a hole through the Marshal’s head. The sword had probably
been the only thing holding him up.

Rather than kill him, as Cor should have considering he was
a Tummelt, he sheathed his sword.

“You shouldn’t charge in so recklessly. That’s the quickest
way to be killed.” He said. He’d left then, ignoring the profanities directed at his
back.

He later found out that Loqi had only been 15 in that first
encounter. The knowledge had made Cor reflect on his own life at that age. 

Honestly, the handler had reminded him of Regis and Clarus, always trying to
talk Cor out of picking a fight. Headstrong. Too headstrong. The only reason he
wasn’t now was because being that headstrong had caused him to charge into a
fight with Gilgamesh. And that hadn’t ended well for him at all.

At the time, he’d hoped to be the kid’s wake up call. Like
the blademaster had been for him. But no. Over the course of years, they’d
clashed time and time again. Each time Cor left him with a bit more advice than
the last. To his surprise, the kid did seem to take the advice to heart, but
that arrogance was a hindrance. His undoing with every fight.

Why did he give him advice at the end of their battles? Truthfully,
Cor wanted to see him reach his potential. Curiosity killed the cat and all. But
then he’d switched to those mechs, and it became rare for them to cross blades.
Cor didn’t want to admit it, but he’d wished that he’d been born in Insomnia.
Such talent was wasted in those mechs.

A small snore startled him out of his thoughts.

Loqi had slightly shifted in his sleep and his face was now
completely pressed against the wall. Cor sighed and then crouched down to his
level. He observed him, trying to guess how he’d react to being woken, and
decided to take the chance. His hand came to a rest on Loqi’s shoulder and
lightly shook him until he stirred.

His eyes opened in a daze and it took him a moment or two to
fully wake up. And once he did his hand tightened around his sword. Before he
could draw it out of its sheath, Cor halted its progress by laying his hand on
the base. The glare he shot at the Marshal would have sent lesser men running,
but Cor only returned the stare with a flat look. He half expected Loqi to
start another long-winded speech about killing him.

However, after a moment of staring each other down, the
fight suddenly went out of Loqi and he settled with a huff of annoyance. It was
strange to see someone who had once been so lively in such a muted state.
Though he did shoot him another surly look, as if offended Cor was breathing
the same air as him.

“…If I was a demon you’d be dead.” Cor said quietly,
breaking the silence.

Loqi grunted and closed his eyes, attempting to get
comfortable again. “Good thing you’re not then. If you’re going to kill me,
wait till I’m back asleep. If not, then leave.”

“Not doing either of those.”

One eye peeked back open, “Oh? Why’s that.”

“I’m currently on a hunt for a young kid with sandy brown hair
who some people have seen around here. Runs around with a blade. People are
worried he’s on his own out here.” Cor said, keeping a straight face.

“You can’t be serious.” Loqi hissed as he sat up with a
jerk. Hit a nerve there Cor guessed. The look in his eyes spelled death for
anyone within reach. That only served to amuse Cor slightly. They both knew
that he wasn’t a kid, despite what Cor thought of him.

Cor simply raised an eye brow at him in response. Loqi then huffed
and dropped his head against the wall with a thud. “Well, now you know it’s just
me, so you can go report back to whoever sent you and tell them to stuff it.”

“Not likely. You’d have to tell them yourself for them to
believe that.” Cor stood back up and offered a hand to him.

Loqi frowned and remained where he was. “Right. Because a Nif
walking into the only city left in the world is going to go over so well. You’re
the immortal, I’m sure that title still has some pull. Leave me be.”

Cor had the sudden urge to roll his eyes. Of course he wasn’t
going to make this easy. “Tummelt, you’ve spent enough time out here trying to
atone.”

“Atone for what I believed was right? I’m not out here to atone,
Marshal. I’m here because my chances of survival are higher with the demons
than in Lestallum.” His voice was filled with disbelief at the thought of
atoning for his action with the empire. But a moment of being surprised allowed
his face to shift into an uncertain expression. Had he been so transparent to Cor? 

Then it was gone again, hidden
behind a screen of confidence in his words.

It was almost believable. After all, ever since night had
fallen the empire’s generals had scattered to the wind. Occasionally, people
would catch glimpses of them in the dark. Moving from place to place. Not daring
to risk the Havens in case one of the hunters got it in their head to seek
revenge on them. And some people did blame them for the world ending.

Due to that, over the past two years the people were seeing
less and less of the Nifs. Demons picking them off over time. Some believed it
was only right they’d fall to the aftermath of their actions. Others sympathized
and wished for them to join them, to lend their skills to the survival effort. Loqi
was one such general, people recalling he hadn’t really hurt anyone outside his
orders. Caligo had been the one to fear, among others, and he was long gone.

Another sigh left Cor and he reached down, seizing the back
of Loqi’s jacket collar and lifting him to his feet. A string of curses fell
from Loqi’s lips as he knocked Cor’s hand away, and stumbling as soon as he put
weight on his legs. With a raised eyebrow, Cor simply stared at Loqi, who
refused to meet his eye.

He kept staring until Loqi answered his silent question.

“…Sprained it running from an Iron Giant.” He muttered it
quietly to the floor, but Cor still caught it.

He shook his head. “You’re dead out here if you try and wait
for that to heal.”

As someone who’s speed was his greatest asset, Loqi surely
knew that the moment his ankle had been hurt it meant death.

“And why do you care, Marshal?” Loqi asked with a sigh of
his own, the exhaustion catching up to him once more.

“You’ve grown on me.” Cor said honestly, offering an arm. “Now
come on. You can lean on me until we get to the others.”

“Wonderful.” The amount of sarcasm he forced into the one
word dripped like venom into a beating heart. But he didn’t refuse the help. Rather,
he allowed himself to lean heavily on Cor as they made their way outside.

It was a long walk, one they made in silence and one sided
rude looks, but they eventually came to the small group that Cor had come along
with. Loqi was forced to explain that, no he wasn’t a kid, he was 25 thank you
very much, and yes it was him running around alone. Surprisingly, no one was
openly hostile with him. Rather, when he wasn’t looking, they’d shoot him
pitying looks. He’d been a child when he’d rose through the ranks after all. Who
could blame him for following what he had believed was right?

As soon as they’d secured the truck they’d traveled in and
got on the road, he’d fallen back asleep. Cor on the other hand, stayed awake
and watched the passing landscape, trying to think of a way to explain bringing
an old enemy back with him to Prompto, Ignis, and Gladiolus.

He already had a headache.