When Percival de Rolo dies, it is not a quiet affair.
Instead, much to his chagrin, it is slow and busy, and he is indignant about the whole matter. Children and grandchildren and their children flock to Whitestone from all across Exandria for final goodbyes.
It is not illness nor evil nor one of his many enemies that finally does Percy in; rather, he wakes one day to find all of his strength drained from him. He’d slept in late, as he was wont to do in his twilight years, and Vex had already risen, but he cried out for her in a weakened voice. Through the earrings, they were still connected. He struggled to sit up while she rushed to him from across the castle, and when she burst through the threshold of their chambers, Percy simply looked at her. Something in his face must have given him away, or perhaps it was the wheeze of his breath, but she moved towards him slowly, fear filling her face, and took his hand.
“Darling,” he’d said softly. “I do think this is the end for me. I’m terribly sorry.”
She had protested and wept, but Percy feels weary down to his bones. It is akin to the feeling of returning from the dead, achy and exhausting. Like he could fall asleep within seconds if he were to shut his eyes. And he can feel something great looming over him, not dreadful but still incredible. Perhaps it is the grace of whatever remains of the gods that has given him this feeling, but he knows, to his very core, that this is his last day.
They’re sitting there together, Vex crying into his shoulder, Percy propped up by pillows, when there’s a knock on the door. Vex freezes before hastily wiping her cheeks with her sleeve.
“Stubby?” Vax’s voice. “Freddy?”
They haven’t yet told anyone about Percy’s sense of impending death, but Percival knows instantly why Vax is here, understands that his brother perhaps knew what would happen today before Percival did.
“Come in,” Percival says, no louder than a whisper, but the door swings open a second later, revealing Vax’ildan, Keyleth behind him and clutching his hand.
Vex’s face has gone white. “Are you here for him?” she says, standing as if to shield Percy from her twin.
“No,” Vax says, his expression twisting in sorrow and sympathy. “He has time enough to say goodbye.”
Keyleth crosses the room then, tears streaming down her cheeks, and embraces Percy. Vax moves towards his sister, reaching out for her slowly. Vex allows herself to be tugged into his arms, and Percival hears her gasp as the sobs begin anew.
His arms feel too leadened to lift, but he wraps his arms around Keyleth nonetheless. “I can’t believe it,” Keyleth says, her voice breathy. “I don’t want you to go.”
Percy attempts a smile. “I can,” he says. “Not that I particularly want to go either.” He wipes Keyleth’s cheeks with fingers that tremble. They always shake nowadays. “I am old, Keyleth.”
“Have you tried healing him?” Keyleth asks, turning to Vex, who nods.
“Last night. And this morning, just a few hours ago. To help with the pain.”
“Old joints,” Percy explains. “But honestly, everything hurts all the time now.”
He’s used to it, and has been for years. Old wounds ache. His back is hunched and compressed in on itself. His knees are practically useless. Every morning and evening, and sometimes throughout the day, Vex heals him or offers a healing potion. He takes it, for her sake if anything, but after a point, the hurt cannot be helped.
“There must be something we can do.”
“Keyleth,” Vax says, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s time.”
Keyleth bows her head, red hair falling in front of her face and hiding her tears. Percy takes her hand in his.
“Send for the little ones, and the rest of Vox Machina,” Vax advises. “Say your goodbyes.” He swallows. “We’ll be here, Percival. Your whole family.”
“All of them?” Percy muses. “Good heavens.”
The words are light, but nobody reacts. Truly, Percy does not mind seeing his family- large in number as they are- but it will be an ordeal to gather them all. It always is.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’ll gather them,” Vex says, wiping at her eyes. She kisses Percry on the lips and stands, turning back before she leaves. “Don’t. Go. Anywhere.”
Percival nods. “Of course not, darling. I’ll be right here.”
The door shuts behind her. Percy inhales, wheezing.
“Honestly, it’s such a fuss,” he murmurs, his tone barely audible. “I’d almost prefer to slip away quietly.”
Vax looks at him, a smile tugging at his lips. “You have too many goodbyes, Percival. What’s the harm in having a little more time? Besides, Vex’ahlia would never let you go without saying farewell.”
“True enough.”
“I’ll give you two a moment,” Vax says, glancing between Percy and Keyleth. “Before the day gets too chaotic.”
“Thank you,” Keyleth croaks. Vax kisses the top of her head, then does the same to Percival. He smiles softly, then follows his sister out the door.
“I don’t know what to say,” Keyleth whispers a moment later. “How am I supposed to do this?”
Percy doesn’t have a good answer for her. Instead, he pats the bed beside him, and Keyleth nods, kicking off her boots and crawling under the sheets next to him. She rests her head on his chest. Thankfully, she is free of her mantle and antlers. It is just Kiki here today, not the leader of the Air Ashari. His dearest friend.
“I take great comfort in knowing you won’t be alone,” Percy says. “For now and for the next few centuries.”
“It won’t be the same,” Keyleth says.
“No. It won’t be. It hasn’t been, not since Grog died,” Percy sighs. Their friend had passed away some ten years earlier, also claimed by the passage of time. “I can’t imagine this will be any easier.”
“Do you think-” Keyleth’s voice breaks. “Do you think we’ll see each other again?”
Percy chuckles. “Since when has death ever kept us apart?”
Keyleth laughs, watery and weak, then they fall into silence. Percy inhales, trying to soak the moment in. He wants to take it with him when he goes. Keyleth is warm and steady next to him. He runs his fingers through her hair, trying to memorize the exact shade of red. He breathes in her scent; cherry blossoms and spring.
Next, he looks down at their intertwined hands. His are liver-spotted and wrinkled, the skin pale and nearly translucent. Keyleth’s skin is smooth and lightly sun-kissed. She looks closer in age to his grandchildren than to himself, except for her eyes, where wisdom and loss are reflected.
“You’ll be alright,” Percival manages. He says it because it has to be true. He cannot leave if it’s not.
Keyelth sniffles, then nods. “I’ll be okay.” She sounds broken and unsure.
“You’ll take care of Vex’ahlia? And the children?”
“Of course I will.”
“Good. And I’ll see to it that they take care of you, too.”
The day proceeds much like that, family in and out. He is old; he has lived a long life. It is time, he tells them. He comforts the youngest ones when they cry and remains strong for his long line of descendants.
Vex hardly leaves his side, and it breaks his heart to see her comfort their family too, as if she will not be the one most impacted by his departure. They have spent 70 years together. He cannot fathom life without her, and she has expressed much the same to him.
“Don’t worry about me,” she tells him in a stolen moment when only he can hear. “I have the children. And the rest of our families. I’ll be just fine, Percy.”
She’s said that before. But Percy knows her and sees the pain in her eyes with every goodbye he utters.
He calls his sister into the room so they can say their goodbyes privately. Cassandra does not weep, but listens quietly while he apologizes for leaving her first. She will be the last remaining of their siblings. They both know Percival is glad it isn’t him. Selfish as the thought is, it cannot be helped. Never again will he feel the crippling loneliness of being the last de Rolo sibling. That burden had been abandoned for 70 years.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats heavily, “for leaving you behind again.”
Cassandra studies him carefully, deciding her next words. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she says at length. Percy feels his heart lift just slightly, even knowing that the words are spoken for his comfort. “You can’t help it. And I’m safe, this time.”
He takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. “I will tell our parents hello,” he says. “And, when you join us- in a very long time- we will all be together again.”
His little sister nods. Then, she surprises him- even in their old age, she can do that- by leaning down to kiss his forehead.
“Goodbye, brother,” she says, and turns to leave.
He watches her go, carrying with her a piece of his heart that had not been his since the day she was born.
Gwendolyn asks to see him alone, too. She doesn’t knock or speak when she enters, just slips into bed beside Percy and rests her head on his chest. He wraps his arms around her, tucking her under his chin the best he can around her horns.
“My dear girl,” he says gently. Even middle-aged, his youngest is obstinate. She doesn’t respond, so he continues.
“I have always seen in you the parts of me that- that perhaps needed to be softened. And I have seen you overcome them as well. I have watched you find the light within the darkness. I am so proud of you. You know how much I love you, but I’ll say it again- I love you very, very much. And I always will, even if I’m not there to tell you.”
“Papa,” Gwen whispers.
“You be good for your mother, do you hear me?”
Gwen nods.
“Good.”
And he holds her, just a little longer, until it’s time for someone else to say goodbye.
He tells himself he’s not scared, but with each farewell- when he holds each of his children for the last time- fear rises within him. He does not much like the idea of leaving them behind, to face grief and the world without him. Even though he is old and near-useless, he still holds to the notion that he is their protector. That, no matter what evil arises in Exandria, he can defend against it, even if he hasn’t held a gun in decades.
He cannot protect them from the grief he has carried since he was a teenager. No longer will he offer parenting or fighting or life-in-general advice. He will leave them to brave the world without him. He has been a father for so long- he has always dreaded leaving his children fatherless.
Wolfe and Leona promise that they’ll be okay, that they will take care of his brood. Vesper vows to look after Vex. His Freddy is serious and forlorn, but tells Percival they’ll be alright. His children are stronger than he ever was, he tells them. He’s very proud of the lives they have built, the people they have become, and the children they have raised.
His children’s partners are entrusted to take care of his babies. He’s known most of them a good 40 years- they are as much his as the rest of his children. Percy takes immense comfort in knowing that most of his children have spouses, that they will know the comfort he and Vex shared for most of their lives.
His grandchildren are adults now, with lives and children of their own. He kisses the little ones goodbye, leaves them with smiles, and wipes away their tears. He leaves them with pieces of wisdom, with memories, with his love.
The heirs to Whitestone swear to keep their city safe and prosperous, but for once, Percy does not worry. Vesper and Cassandra and Vex have long maintained their home. It is in good hands.
Pike and Scanlan and Tary bid him farewell, too. Pike is in tears, but she says to tell Grog hello. She promises to look after Kiki and Vex, just like she always has, and Scanlan says he’ll look after Pike. His other family will be alright, too, even at this parting.
And then everyone has said their goodbyes, and there is nothing left to do but wait. Their whole clan gathers in his bedchambers, from which Percival has not moved, nor will he until it is time for burial.
“I would do anything,” Vex says, so quietly that only he can hear, “so that you would live forever.”
He takes her face in both of his trembling hands and presses a kiss to her lips. For a split second, the world narrows to the two of them: just Vex and Percy and their love. He thinks of their life together, from her words calling his soul to return, to the birth of their first daughter, to their second wedding, raising their children together, their first grandchild, and great-grandchildren entering the world.
It’s all been wonderful. He would not change a thing.
“Just one more day, Percy,” Vex says. There are tears in her eyes, and Percival’s heart breaks.
“I would never leave you, if given the chance,” Percival says. “But I’m afraid I’ve no choice in the matter.” He squeezes her hand. “I will see you again,” he says around the lump in his throat.
But Vex sees his fear so easily. “You will,” she agrees. “Your family is waiting for you, darling.”
Percy nods, feeling very small. He misses his wife, his children, and his family already, so much so that his chest aches. He swallows hard.
There are voices calling him away. How long until he sees his mother and father again? His darling sisters and his brothers? All those they’ve ever lost? He is weary and in pain. It will all end too soon.
“I am very tired,” Percy whispers.
Vex cups his cheek. “Then sleep, darling.”
He can hear the pain in his wife’s voice, but the exhaustion is pulling him under faster than he can fight it. In a final burst of energy, he opens his eyes and glances around the room. His children are holding their own children and grandchildren, and Vox Machina are scattered throughout the room. His sister, chin held high as she watches him. Keyleth, crying again, but giving him a nod as if to tell him it’s okay. Vex, smiling as silent tears slip down her face, and Vax gripping her shoulder.
As far as endings go, surrounded by family is not a terrible fate.
He closes his eyes, and falls asleep.
Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III dies hours later, his hand clasped in his wife’s, his family by his side. In the interim, between him going to sleep and finally dying, there is hushed chatter and laughter and crying. There are nearly 30 people packed into his bedchamber, old friends and loved ones, those who have lived decades and those who have just entered the world. It is not a quiet affair. It is not violent or sudden. He is not ripped away but gently guided to another place.
It is not a quiet affair. But there is peace, and there is love, in the end.
It is late in the evening, after dinner and time spent reading by the fire. Percival has failed to suppress several yawns, and Vesper, bless her, finally stands and declares it is time for bed. The grandchildren groan; the children dutifully bid them goodnight. Vex hands Percy his cane. He grips the handle tightly and rises to his feet with great effort, Vex hovering by his elbow to help him if needed. His joints scream at him as he moves, his back is hunched and never quite straightens. But he stands nonetheless. Vex takes his arm, as if she might be the one needing support, and they head toward the stairs.
He’s winded before they reach the staircase. Vex doesn’t say anything, just waits for him to catch his breath, and grips his arm tighter as they begin to ascend. One foot in front of the other. He plants his cane firmly on the next step, and a foot follows shakily. He pulls himself forward. The other foot moves with Vex. It is slow, painstaking. He has been up and down this staircase thousands of times before, bounding up it, running down and out the doors to Whitestone. He’s carried Vex and all their children and grandchildren up these stairs, and now he wonders if they’ll need to carry him up soon or if they’ll simply move their bedroom downstairs.
When they make it to the top, he glances at Vex, who smiles warmly. She does not praise him for accomplishing this simple thing, and for that, he is grateful. But she pauses again, letting him regain his balance. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He shakes now more than ever. And then, after a moment, he takes a step forward, Vex still by his side.
Percival is old now.
He feels it in his body most of all. He first realized how bad it was when he woke up in pain and couldn’t remember a time when this wasn’t true. He sleeps in later now, stirring and opening his eyes slowly, most often to see Vex watching him with a smile. Without words, she’ll reach out to touch his face or hand and pour healing into him. It dulls the ache, but the pain never fully disappears.
His life has changed, as has he. Everything seems slower; his children rule Whitestone while he and Vex are left to dote on grandchildren. The castle is full of life. It’s ironic, he muses, given that he is dying. Not quickly, by any means, but his body has begun to fail.
His cane is no longer just for show. More often than not, he climbs the stairs clinging to his wife or one of the children or grandchildren. He can do it on his own, but it takes a long while, and he silently fears losing his balance. Given that he is rarely left to ascend by himself, Percy suspects his family shares his concern.
Nowadays, his hands shake uncontrollably, making tinkering and writing exceedingly difficult. His handwriting is near illegible- his twins have taken to scribing for him without ever being asked. He does not think he could shoot a gun if he tried. He has little desire to, anyway.
He tires quickly now, becomes winded from walking the halls of the castle. Though he loathes to admit it, his visits down to Whitestone proper are infrequent. The trek is a great ordeal now, but he makes a point to go at least once a week, even if he needs to nap afterward.
It all hurts, all the time. He’s not alone in this; Vex has died and been brought back five times now. She tells him the wounds are felt every day, from a sinking, stabbing feeling in her chest to her lungs constricting, screaming for air. Percival can feel where bullets tore through him, where his stomach was ripped open. But also, his joints ache. His back always hurts. He gets sick more easily. He has lived a long, hard life, and his body will not let him forget it.
Pike and Vex spend hours each week making various concoctions to soothe his troubled joints. He drinks them dutifully, accepts their healing magic if only to ease their worries. But magic and potions only go so far. As powerful as they are- as he is, or was- there are some things forever trumped by time.
Percival is older now than his parents ever were. Far older than any of his siblings got to be. His children have watched him grow old, and they will see him grow older still, and eventually, die. The difference between his impending death and that of his parents is stark. He will die peacefully of old age. They never had the chance. His children will mourn him and be able to move on, unhaunted by nightmares of grisly last moments.
It’s painful to only imagine how his family would have aged. He can approximate based on those still living- his little sister, whose hair is now a mix of white and grey, still has echoes of their siblings in her sagging face. Vesper looks like her namesake; would his sister have the same smile lines and crow’s feet as his daughter? He used to look like Julius, before his hair went white. The grandchildren bring back memories of his siblings’ faces, too, if only with sharper Elven features and darker hair.
His grandchildren, who know to be gentle with him, know that he may fall or bruise if they roughhouse. Gone are the days of crawling on the floor or lifting children high into the air. Instead, he rocks the little ones to sleep on his lap or reads endless stories to the gaggle of his descendants. He does not mind this, for the most part. So long as he gets to see them grow up.
Percival would like to say he aged gracefully. Vax says he aged loudly, complaining all the while. But that is another gift that came with age- his brother returned to him. Percy has never complained about that.
It is an interesting dilemma, his brother and sister-in-law. His best friend and her beloved, his wife’s brother. Keyleth and Vax look much the same as they did seventy years ago. More refined, maybe, but their faces remain unmarred by wrinkles. He fears leaving them behind as much as he fears going on without them. But they will be there to comfort Vex when he goes, and he would not change that for the world.
There is fear in Vex’s eyes when he winces as he moves or struggles to climb the stairs. She will outlive him. He’s always known that. He doesn’t know how to comfort her now, as this fate looms, but he trusts she will be okay. His wife has always been stronger than he. The rest of Vox Machina and their family will take care of her.
One recent winter, he’d caught the flu and swore he’d never been closer to death out of combat or the reaches of the Briarwoods. It was awful; he slipped in and out of consciousness for days, riddled with fever, kept from the brink by Pike and his wife’s healing magic. After, he’d made sure to update his will and funeral plans, much to the despair of his loved ones. But Vax had just shaken his head and told him his time wasn’t yet. He wonders if Vax does know when he’ll die, but he doesn’t dare ask. There is only one way he’ll discover that mystery.
He never expected to grow old. Even after Vox Machina retired from adventuring, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the concept. Certainly, that was the goal- to spend the rest of his days with Vex’ahlia- but that didn’t mean he believed it would happen. That he would live through it. That he would become a father, a grandfather. He never expected to reach twenty-five, much less eighty. Some days, he feels aimless, unsure of what to do with the time given to him.
But there is life left in him, laughter to be shared, and memories to be made. He has, after all these years, allowed himself to feel that he’s earned this time with his family and friends. He is determined to enjoy it, even in his fragile old age, even at the twilight of his life.
“I had the thought,” Percival says, once they are dressed for bed and lying together under the covers, his arms wrapped around Vex. “Of dying and going to someplace peaceful where I can see my parents again.”
He is old now, but when he says this, he feels very small. Young. Perhaps it is a naive hope, after all he’s done.
But Vex’ahlia kisses his cheek. “Of course you’ll see them again, Percy. One day.”
He hums in agreement. Maybe his wife’s hope is enough for him to believe, too.
He sees the fear in Vex’s eyes when he winces as he moves or struggles to climb the stairs. She will outlive him. He’s always known that. He doesn’t know how to comfort her now, as this fate looms, but he trusts she will be okay. His wife has always been stronger than him.
//
He never expected to grow old. Even after Vox Machina retired from adventuring, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the concept. Certainly, that was the goal- to spend the rest of his days with Vex’ahlia- but that didn’t mean he believed it would happen. That he would live through it. That he would become a father, a grandfather. He never expected to reach twenty-five, much less eighty. Some days, he feels aimless, unsure of what to do with the time given to him.
Zerxus rises and dons robes of black; they are simple clothes, and heavy, but Zerxus’ hands don’t start to shake until he straps on some of his armor.
It is his first time wearing the garb of the First Knight. He’s not in full armor, either, but he puts on the bracers, doing the straps awkwardly with one hand.
It would be easier if someone else was there to help him. Everything would be easier if there was someone there to help him.
The house is still quiet when Zerxus leaves his room, and for that, Zerxus is grateful. He can be alone in his grief, can be weary and broken, for a little while longer.
He should make breakfast or coffee. He should rouse Elias, so they’re not rushed later this morning. The day ahead will be long and exhausting, and there is much to do.
Zerxus sits at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.
He’s distinctly aware of a few things; hot tears dripping down his nose, the pressure of his palms against his eyes. He doesn’t move, not when his muscles start to ache, not even when the front door opens and footsteps approach.
“Is Elias awake yet?”
It’s Cerrit. Zerxus shakes his head before dropping his gaze again. Cerrit gives a nod and disappears in the direction of the bedchambers, and then Nydas is there, and he sits down next to Zerxus, and they stay there in silence.
Nydas reaches out and takes Zerxus’ hand, squeezing tightly. Zerxus looks at him, trying to muster some appreciation for the gesture, for being there, but can’t bring himself to show it. Nydas only smiles at him, sadly, and brushes some of Zerxus’ hair out of his face.
After a minute, Cerrit remerges from the hallway, Elias half swallowed by his wings, clinging to Cerrit in a way that must be painful for someone with feathers. Wordlessly, Zerxus extends his arms, and Elias reaches for him too. Zerxus takes his son into his embrace, and Elias curls against him, nestling against his chest and under his chin. Zerxus holds him close.
The two other men prepare breakfast for them. Father and son sit in silence, unmoving even as plates are placed in front of them. Cerrit takes Elias again so that Zerxus’ hands are free, but he doesn’t stir.
“Eat, Zerxus,” Nydas says, exhausted. He glances pointedly at Elias, who isn’t touching his food either.
Zerxus takes a single bite of breakfast and chews until the food turns to ash in his mouth. Elias takes a bite too. Zerxus watches and then makes a concentrated effort to swallow.
He manages a few more bites; Elias clears his own plate. It’s silent until Cerrit takes away the dishes. “Good job,” he praises Elias, sounding as level as ever. “Would you like me to help Elias get dressed, or would you like to?”
“I can do it,” Zerxus says. The sound of his voice surprises him. It’s low, raspy. He can’t remember the last time he had to talk.
“Good,” Cerrit says again. Zerxus rises stiffly and retreats to Elias’ room, his son following behind him. At some point, a black shirt and pants had appeared for Elias to wear. Although Elias is beyond old enough to dress himself, Zerxus makes sure he dons the appropriate clothes and that his hair is combed. He looks presentable, handsome.
He looks like Evandrin. There is a lump in his throat. As Elias finishes getting ready, Zerxus turns away.
The funeral is long. Many people speak about Evandrin, his accomplishments, his bravery and valor. He sits in the front row with Elias and pretends to listen, and tries not to look at his friends.
He’s nauseous, really, when he sees Patia and Laerryn. These women, their friends, powerful and trusted, who could not save Evandrin when he became so sick. Patia, who sends him furtive glances when she thinks Zerxus is too preoccupied to notice. Laerryn, who leans heavily on Quay and cries silently the whole time, and who doesn’t look at him even when Quay offers their condolences afterwards.
Then there’s Cerrit, who holds Elias when Zerxus’ arms go numb, who leaves them only twice to go check on Wrayne and Maya.
And Nydas, who stands beside him the whole time. Who greets people and talks and says thank you for coming, he would have loved that you were here when Zerxus cannot. Who will take off his bracers and robes and tuck him into the too-big, now-empty bed later that night.
And Elias, who hides his face in Zerxus’ chest during the eulogies. Who cries when Patia’s voice cracks during her eulogy, but otherwise stays quiet and red-eyed, who glances into his father’s face and sees no tears.
After the funeral is the memorial, which Patia is kind enough to host- mostly, Zerxus knows that he can’t, that every well-wish will be hollow when they are, in their most basic function, attempts at comfort in a world where Evandrin is dead.
It’s an hour of this before Zerxus needs a break. Patia is thanking people for coming, and Nydas is doing his best to be gracious and kind while Zerxus is silent, and people and strangers and acquaintances are speaking about Evandrin and their family, and it is so, so empty.
Zerxus gathers Elias into his arms, and escapes into a side garden. There are tall flowers that hide them from the view of any windows, so Zerxus finds a secluded bench, and when Elias starts to sob, Zerxus cries with him.
They return home late that afternoon, somehow more exhausted than before. It’s just Nydas who escorts them, although Wrayne promises to bring by dinner later. Elias retires to his room early, without saying goodnight. Zerxus lets him go.
When evening falls, Zerxus cannot sleep, and so he rises, and paces the hallways of his home before finally settling down on their small porch outside. He sits, and he watches the evening sky. It is moonless, and the stars are brighter than usual.
He did this, so many years ago, on the night he first met the love of his life. They stared up at the night sky and kissed until the dawning light of the sun lightened the horizon.
Zerxus stands, and retreats to their small office, gathering a pen and a notebook before returning outside. He wipes the tears from his cheeks, puts ink to paper, and writes of a night long ago, when he watched the stars and his life changed forever.
the protectors of avalir at the beginning of their life together or two men meet and fall in love all in the same instant
WORD COUNT: 8078
part 2 / part 3
XXX
Evandrin looks tired.
It isn’t the first thing Zerxus notices about him- no, that was how striking he is, how beautifully his hair frames his face, the bowed shape of his lips, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the freckles dusting across his cheeks. Zerxus has never seen anyone with elven lineage who has freckles, but Evandrin does, and Zerxus is captivated.
Nydas had dragged him to this ball with promises of meeting the Ring of Gold and other dignitaries, but most importantly, to meet Evandrin. He’d endured months of Laerryn and Nydas’ chatter about the other man, about how pretty he is and how kind and funny and perfect for Zerxus he is. It’s been a set-up since the beginning, and, Zerxus suspects, the entertainment for the night. He spares a glance over his shoulder and sees Laerryn and Patia still watching them from across the gilded room.
They’re making small talk, but Zerxus feels floaty, distant. He’s faintly aware of Nydas watching him, smirking into his glass, but even the smugness of his friend can’t quite dampen Zerxus’ spirit. His heart flutters in his chest, dancing against his ribcage.
Zerxus has been studying Evandrin’s face, and he doesn’t miss the dark circles under his eyes. Evandrin has a prestigious job guarding the city, one that calls for long hours and complete physical and mental dedication. Still, his exhaustion is very pronounced, and a pang of concern sparks through Zerxus- even though they just met, even though he hardly knows Evandrin.
Then Evandrin yawns, and a faint blush creeps on his cheeks when he catches Zerxus watching him.
“Sorry,” Evandrin says, and stars above, Zerxus is really far gone, and he knows it when the gentle lilt of Evandrin’s voice stirs something deep in Zerxus’ stomach. “I have a newborn. He’s been keeping me up all night.”
Ah. He’s a dad.
Zerxus can’t help himself: he glances down at Evandrin’s left hand, checking for a ring.
The color on Evandrin’s cheeks deepens, and a slight warmth tinges Zerxus’ face too.
“It’s just me,” Evandrin says, and Zerxus could swear that his voice raises a pitch higher. “I’m a single dad.” He clears his throat a little. “I am single.”
“My god,” Nydas mutters. He takes a long sip of his whiskey and fixes them both with a bemused look. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Despite Evandrin’s flushed cheeks, his eyes sparkle as they watch Nydas disappear into the crowd of partygoers. He raises his glass to his lips- Zerxus thinks he may have already memorized their exact shape- and drinks his champagne before turning back to Zerxus.
“Tell me about your son,” Zerxus says, and Evandrin’s smile lights up his whole face.
Evandrin’s son is just a few months old. His name is Elias and he’s not anywhere close to sleeping through the night. His hair is a softer red than Evandrin’s but their eyes and noses are the exact same.
“He laughs all the time,” Evandrin says, “any excuse to smile.” His eyes crinkle at the thought, before the half-elf sobers. “But whenever I set him down, he cries. You would think the world was ending.”
“I can’t blame him,” Zerxus says, “to have that reaction when you leave.”
Evandrin smiles at that, ear to ear, and all the more beautiful for it. “You flatter me, Zerxus.”
Zerxus grins back at him. “I speak only the truth, Evandrin. You seem like a wonderful father. Elias is lucky to have you.”
“I try,” Evandrin says. Then, after a brief pause: “Are there any children in your life?”
“Cerrit’s daughter,” Zerxus answers. “I’m currently vying for the spot of ‘favorite uncle.’”
“Just vying?”
Zerxus shrugs. “It’s hard to compete with people who can conjure light out of their hands.”
“You rank pretty high in my book.”
They’ve been talking for less than twenty minutes.
Something red-hot squirms deep in Zerxus’ stomach, and he moves half a step closer to Evandrin. They’re inches apart now, and Zerxus wants to close the rest of the distance between them, to taste the other man’s lips, to-
“Come with me.” Evandrin pulls away, but he grabs Zerxus’ hand.
Zerxus follows. He doesn’t look back, his gaze fixed on Evandrin as he’s led outside, and so he misses the gleeful watch of the Ring of Brass as they depart.
Evandrin takes him up two flights of stairs, leading him by hand the whole time. His hair sways with every step he takes; Zerxus watches it, mesmerized until they arrive at the rooftop garden. Zerxus has never been up here before, but Evandrin seems to know the way well enough.
“Wow,” Zerxus breathes.
The venue is, of course, in one of the fancier neighbors of Avalir, positioned high above the rest of the city, while the terrace itself overlooks the smaller buildings, allowing them to see out to where the edge of the city gives way to darker clouds and the expanse of sky surrounding them. There are a few small benches, but the space is mostly taken up by flowers, tall twisting trees, and blossoms of purple, blue, and red. Gentle violins are just audible too, the sound echoing from three floors below.
“I’ve never actually been up here,” Evandrin says. “Laerryn was giving me directions.” He taps the side of his head; it takes Zerxus a moment to understand that he means telepathically.
Zerxus glances around, then his gaze settles on Evandrin. “It’s stunning,” he says, not looking away.
"Yes.” Evandrin floats to the edge of the roof, leaning against the vine-covered railing. “Avalir is quite beautiful.” He looks back over to Zerxus. “Are you in love yet?”
Zerxus’ mouth goes dry; Evandrin startles at his expression, then laughs softly. “With the city, Zerxus.”
“Oh.” Zerxus is still staring at Evandrin. “Yes, I think I am.”
“Me too,” Evandrin beams at him, then turns to look over the sparkling city. “I had nearly forgotten how much I loved it here.”
“It’s home.”
“Yes. And now it’s my son’s home, too.”
Zerxus hums, tracing the veins on the vines wrapped around the balcony railing. Evandrin takes a breath, then:
“Where are you from?”
“Caithmoria.”
“But you left.”
“There was no reason to stay. I…” Zerxus shifts, focusing on the edge of the city. “I love what I do, and I do it well. But I had little purpose in that city.”
“So you came to Avalir-“
“-in pursuit of something greater. Yes.”
“I’m not teasing you, Zerxus.” Evandrin steps closer to him, smiling in earnest. “I believe you. I desire similar things. That’s why I returned to Avalir.”
Zerxus sighs, looking back at Evandrin. “This age is on the precipice of incredible things. We have seen that already. I want to be a part of it. This city, its people- are a marvel. There is no place else I would rather be.”
“I think I rather like having you here, too.”
“I will certainly take that into consideration.”
Zerxus is quiet, resting his hands on the balcony. Evandrin notices and brushes his fingers against the back of Zerxus’ hand. Their pinkies interlock before Zerxus’ takes his hand.
“You’re cold,” Zerxus says, and he finally notices the way Evandrin is huddled into himself. “If I had a cloak, I would give it to you.”
“Come closer then, and warm me.”
He laughs, surprised, and Evandrin echoes the sound. His face lights up, and for that brief, wonderful moment, Evandrin doesn’t look tired at all.
But Zerxus obliges, hovering closer to Evandrin. He folds both of Evandrin’s hands into his own, and raises them to his lips, kissing the back of his left hand. Then, he brings Evandrin into his embrace, and they stand like that, closer than Zerxus can bear.
Evandrin looks up at him; the corners of his mouth are turned up and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks and his eyes shine like the stars above.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and Zerxus just nods, dumbstruck. Evandrin moves in closer, pressing their bodies close together, and then cups Zerxus’ cheek. His hands are soft, and so are his lips.
He tastes like sweet wine. Zerxus is so gone.
“I don’t usually…” Evandrin is still so close; Zerxus can feel his hot breath on his skin. Long eyelashes flutter against pale cheeks. “I didn’t expect this, tonight.”
“Me neither,” Zerxus confesses. “I’ve never.” He bites his tongue, then meets Evandrin’s gaze. “I’ve never felt anything like this”
I’m in love with you.
Evandrin hovers close, his lips brushing over Zerxus’.
“You, Zerxus Ilerez, are as wonderful as they say.”
Another kiss, this one deeper. Evandrin sighs against him, then pulls away.
“You exceed all expectations, Evandrin Alterra.” Zerxus reaches up, tucking a strand of red hair behind pointed ears.
“They’re going to be so smug about this.” A soft chuckle, a sigh.
Zerxus cups Evandrin’s face in his hands, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs. “I can tolerate it. If it’s for you.”
Evandrin smiles at him, his eyes sparkling. “Likewise.”
He leans in and kisses Zerxus again, standing on his toes and leaning against the taller man. Zerxus moves his arms, wrapping them around Evandrin’s body. The scent of flowers is sweet in the air. Tonight, the clouds hang low, about level with Avalir. The stars are clear above them, and Zerxus is wrapped tightly in the embrace of someone he just met.
Someone-
Evandrin leans in and kisses him again, long and sweet. The stars are shining above them, and they hold each other and kiss until the pink of dawn approaches.
It’s nearly daybreak when Zerxus staggers home, alone, but his lips raw and chest tight with emotion. His weariness is physical, rooted in the heaviness of his eyes and limbs, but his mind is sharp and alert.
He thinks of Evandrin, of the feeling of their lips together. Of their bodies so close, of the sharp angle of his nose, of the softness of his hair.
He thinks of Evandrin. Only of Evandrin. He’s the last thought before Zerxus drifts off to sleep, and the first thing on his mind when he wakes the next day.
“Good morning, Nydas.”
“Zerxus.” Nydas squints at him over his cup of coffee. “You left without saying goodbye.”
Zerxus blushes. “I think I left after you, actually.”
“Oh. See, I thought, unlike Loquacious and Laerryn, you would perhaps find someplace more private to-”
“Nydas.” Then, when his protest gets no response: “It wasn’t like that, I assure you.”
“So you absconded with another man for what? Six hours? And you merely continued to stare into each other’s eyes for the duration of the evening?”
Zerxus stands up a little taller. “Mostly.”
Nydas rolls his eyes and takes a long sip of his coffee.
“So not only are you the only person in the city who is not hungover, you are also smug about it and smitten with a man you’ve just met.”
“I don’t think Evandrin had much to drink last night, either.”
“Know that the two of you are already insufferable.”
“My being insufferable to you is hardly news, Nydas,” Zerxus teases, and reaches for a cup to pour his own coffee.
“I have to admit, you were more taken with each other than anyone expected.”
“I…” Zerxus pauses with his cup halfway to his lips. “I never-“ He swallows. “Nydas, I’d never believed having a connection take hold so quickly.”
Nydas eyes him carefully. “You mean love at first sight.”
Zerxus can feel the heat on his cheeks. “Yes. I do.” He clears his throat after a heavy pause. “I don’t know if I can say that, even- last night was wonderful, but-“
“-you met last night. I see. Well,” Nydas sighs, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “Perhaps don’t tell him that you’re madly in love right away, but-“
“I’m not madly in love, Nydas-“
“-but this would very much seem like something worth pursuing. You’re glowing, my friend, just thinking about it.” Zerxus touches a hand to his warmed cheeks, and Nydas chuckles. “Now, when do you see him next?”
Zerxus raises his eyebrow, but Nydas inclines his head, waiting.
“Tomorrow,” Zerxus concedes, and Nydas laughs again.
“Maybe don’t tell him then, either. Make all your passionate declarations without the mention of love.”
He manages as much. There are evening strolls through gardens and quick lunches between shifts, and brief dalliances on slower days, when they can sneak away to see each other. They talk- about Avalir, about Cathmoria, about their childhoods, their dreams growing up. About Elias. About what they want to achieve within the city and beyond, about magic, about swordwork, about the weather, and everything in between. Sometimes, no words are spoken- because they are otherwise occupied, or because sitting in each other’s presence is simply enough.
Zerxus met Evandrin and knew his heart; there was no other way to fall in love so quickly. It is only a few weeks of these meetings before Zerxus knows Evandrin the rest of the way, to be able to pull a smile from him with only a few words, to sympathize with the latest updates about Elias teething. It is fast, and incredible, and Zerxus is no less in love than the night he first met Evandrin.
Zerxus is suddenly caught between two worlds; a life on Avalir that revolves around his job and the city, and another that centers on Evandrin. As they spend more time together, the barriers between them seem more nebulous: Zerxus finds himself wishing for Evandrin’s opinion on certain cases, wanting to share the events of each day with him. It’s difficult, when they see each other so little, but Zerxus takes every second he can get with the other man.
It’s enough to tide Zerxus over, but he’s still unsatisfied.
But their time together is always brief; both men are busy with their guard duties, and Evandrin cannot spare more time away from Elias than he already takes.
“Zerxus,” he says, and it is during another stolen moment, just the two of them tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street. “I cannot-“
There’s heartbreak already on his face, and as soon as Zerxus sees it, he feels it too.
“I very much enjoy seeing you like this. I- I look forward to seeing you every time we part, but-“ Evandrin heaves a sigh. “My son comes first. Whatever… relationships I may have, he’s the most important one.”
“Okay.” Zerxus raises an eyebrow. "So you’re a package deal.”
Evandrin stills for a moment, but Zerxus doesn’t miss the blush that slowly creeps across his cheeks. “So…?”
“So I’m all in. With Elias. Or if,” Zerxus swallows hard, “if you just need to focus on him, I understand that too.”
The other man stares at him a moment longer, then presses forward suddenly, kissing Zerxus. The kiss is rough and deep, and the force of their bodies colliding makes Zerxus stumble back.
“This is fast,” Evandrin gasps when they untangle from each other. “I understand-“
“I-“ I love you. “I want this,” Zerxus insists. “I want-“ he swallows. “-to be with you. And all the things that come with you. Your son is not a deterrent. I want to be with you. I want to be a part of your life.”
“Then I am very lucky indeed.” Evandrin blinks at him, and his voice is suddenly thick. “This is not something I would like to lose.”
“No,” Zerxus says, and steps closer to Evandrin again. He cups the back of Evandrin’s head, pressing their foreheads together. “Nor I.”
This time, Evandrin kisses him long and slow, leaning into him. The rest of the world melts away in that moment- there is only Zerxus and Evandrin, with so little space between them, with Evandrin’s hands on his waist, with his own hands tangled in red hair. Something deep in Zerxus’ chest sings, burns, and he presses closer to Evandrin. When they separate, Evandrin is gasping for air, but smiling widely.
“Come meet my son.”
Evandrin takes him home.
His house is in Cloudstone, not far from Cerrit’s. The structure itself is made of white stone, tall and proud, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens. Zerxus suspects that Laerryn must’ve had some pull in securing this property; it’s far too nice to be afforded on a guard’s salary, quietly stunning in the way that reflects much of Avalir’s beauty.
The inside tells a different story. Blankets and clothes- infant and adult-sized alike- are strewn over the sitting room, and Zerxus can just see into the kitchen, where dishes are stacked high on the counter. A faint blush appears on Evandrin’s cheeks as he hurriedly tucks away baby toys and clothes, but Zerxus only smiles when they catch each other’s eyes.
Evandrin relaxes slightly. He glances around the foyer, and then footsteps echo from down the hall. An apparently-young elf approaches them, nodding their head at Evandrin.
“Elias isn’t quite asleep yet, Evandrin,” they say, a smile quirking at their lips. “As you well know, he’s far too stubborn to nap on time.”
Evandrin sighs, but there’s no real conviction behind it. “Of course not.” He glances at the two people in front of him. “Sola, this is Zerxus. Zerxus, Sola. They take care of Elias when I cannot be home.”
“Lovely to meet you,” Zerxus says. Sola’s brow furrows, but they respond in kind, and Zerxus wonders if he has a reputation among Evandrin’s friends already.
“I’ll gladly relieve you of my stubborn son,” Evandrin says, and Sola nods. They disappear back down the hall- to gather their things or say goodbye to Elias- and return a moment later.
“Enjoy your afternoon,” they say, and there’s enough mirth in their tone that Zerxus knows Evandrin is being teased about their relationship. Evandrin thanks them graciously, and Zerxus mutters a goodbye.
“Well,” Evandrin says, and although his blush has returned, he says nothing about Sola’s gleeful departure. “Shall I retrieve my insolent child?”
“I don’t want to disturb his naptime,” Zerxus says, but Evandrin only shakes his head.
“He’s hopeless. If Elias is not asleep now, then he will not be in an hour, and the only benefit of that is the increased chance of him sleeping past dawn tomorrow morning. It is better for us to give up hope now, and let you meet him.”
“As you say, then.”
“Make yourself at home,” Evandrin gestures to the sofa, and Zerxus sits while Evandrin retreats to the nursery. When he reappears, Elias is cradled in his arms, wrapped in a green blanket. He’s smaller than Zerxus expected him to be, and when Evandrin sits beside Zerxus, he gets a proper look at his face.
Elias’ features are delicate but clearly defined. From the curve of his nose to the shape of his brow and the exact shade of his irises, he is Evandrin’s son. It could not be more evident, except for the fact that Evandrin is beaming down at him like Elias is the sun itself, and Elias reaches a tiny hand up for his father’s face. There’s a sudden tightness in Zerxus’ chest, one that closes up his throat and steals all speech away from him.
“He’s beautiful, Evandrin,” Zerxus manages. Evandrin nods, gaze flickering from his son to Zerxus.
“Do you want to hold him?” Evandrin asks, and he must know how badly Zerxus wanted this, because the half-elf doesn’t wait for him to answer and dumps Elias into his arms.
Elias is tiny, but he’s heavy and warm against Zerxus’ chest. He’s also wide awake, and peering up at Zerxus with curious eyes that are the precise shade of his father’s.
Carefully and slowly, Zerxus reaches up to trace Elias’ brow. The infant squirms in his arms, but his gaze doesn’t leave Zerxus
“He likes you,” Evandrin says, and his voice sounds oddly thick. Zerxus glances up at him, blinking rapidly.
“Yeah,” he says, past the lump in his throat.
All he knows is that he never wants to let Elias go.
The baby falls asleep in his arms just minutes later. Elias watches Zerxus until his eyelids become heavy, and his blinks long and slow. His breathing evens out gradually, while Zerxus marvels at the joy in his arms, and Evandrin watches them both quietly. It’s several long minutes of silence, Zerxus just staring at Elias, already committing his features to memory, and when he realizes Elias is asleep, his breath hitches.
So this is love. So this is everything Zerxus didn’t even realize he wanted. This tiny weight in his arms, this elation of such an innocent trust- for Elias to fall asleep in his arms.
Zerxus knows- he knows, with every fiber of his being- he loves Elias already. As much as he already loves Evandrin. As brightly as the sun. As deeply as every ocean in Exandria. He knows that he will love Elias for the rest of his life.
“Evandrin,” he says, because even now, he’s afraid to say I love you. Fortunately, Evandrin seems to understand, because he settles closer to Zerxus, wrapping an arm around him and cupping the back of his neck with his other hand, touching their foreheads together.
“I’m in love with him, Nydas.”
“Oh, I know. Most of Avalir does, by now.”
Zerxus groans; Nydas smirks. “Quay tells me that there are rumors abound of prominent guardsmen sneaking around, having not-so-discreet meetups, kissing, giggling, in every one of Avalir’s alleyways. Two attractive, important men, rendezvousing around the city, clearly obsessed with each other- Brother, you and Evandrin are the most interesting thing to happen since the last Replenishment.”
“I never knew I could feel this deeply,” Zerxus confesses. There’s a lump in his throat, again, and his eyes burn. Nydas’ expression softens, and he leans closer to Zerxus, clasping his hand. “I only- I only want to be with them when we’re parted. Evandrin and Elias both.”
Zerxus sighs, his brow pinching together. “It terrifies me, how- how quickly this took hold. I want to be with Evandrin. I want to see Elias grow. And yet I cannot get past-“
“Zerxus,” Nydas interrupts, squeezing his hand. “You have a tender heart. You do not love halfheartedly, my friend. I have long known that when you found love, it would take you completely. But,” he continues when Zerxus slumps over the table, deflated. “I have fewer reservations about this than you. Were your lover someone I knew less, I would be wary. But Laerryn loves him dearly, and nothing in the months I have known him has given me cause to doubt his character. There is a reason you love him already, and that reason is not that you are a fool.”
“It’s maddening,” Zerxus groans into his hands. “How do I tell him-“
“Don’t. Give it time, Brother. Wait until you’re sure this isn’t mere infatuation-“ Zerxus lifts up his head to glare weakly at Nydas. “-and to ensure that he feels the same way.”
“Laerryn,” Evandrin says. “I am in love with him.”
“Oh my gods,” Quay says loudly, rolling his eyes. Laerryn grins widely at Evandrin.
“I told you.”
“Yes, I know,” Evandrin heaves a sigh, and resumes his pacing through Laerryn’s foyer. Loquacious watches him, bemused, while Laerryn laughs.
“I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I-” Evandrin spins on his heel. “Laerryn, he is my every thought and dream. Suddenly, I cannot see a future without him.” He chokes on the words, and the laughter drains from Laerryn’s face. “I have never known love like this before.”
“Oh.” Laerryn goes still, looking at him curiously. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes. I do. I very much do.”
His friend comes closer; Laerryn reaches up and carefully wipes the tears from his eyes.
“Then I am happy for you, Evandrin. May this love bring you every blessing you deserve.”
---------------
Zerxus meets Elias and the world changes. It shifts off its center, as it did the day Zerxus met Evandrin, and revolves around someone new. There are important things, like Avalir, and Zerxus’ family, and his role within the city. Things he loves, that fulfill him. But Evandrin and Elias- they are his heart. They are flames in his chest, painful and bright, curling against his ribs. The intensity of it hurts; Zerxus can hardly dwell on it, for fear of the feeling consuming him entirely. Suddenly, he lives for Elias’s soft, curious smiles, his bubbling laughter. He exists for Evandrin’s kisses, the feeling of his hands on Zerxus’ chest. All that matters- that truly matters- is the sweet and innocent trust of Elias falling asleep in his arms, the gentle pride of calming him when he cries. And, Evandrin speaking to him about their dreams, about the life they want to build together, about their hopes for Avalir, for their careers, for their friends, and for each other.
A pattern develops: Zerxus is almost never alone. Instead, he is with Evandrin, or Elias and Evandrin both. When Evandrin is on duty, and Zerxus is not, Zerxus volunteers to care for Elias, and so Elias gains a new caregiver. They spend long hours together; Zerxus learns feeding and naptime and diaper schedules. He feeds Elias with careful hands, talks to him, pointing out birds and flowers in the gardens, and sings and rocks him to sleep. That’s how Evandrin finds them most often; Elias blissfully asleep, still clutched in Zerxus’ arms. Zerxus doesn’t want to let him go, he explains. Having Elias in his arms is the best thing in the world.
It’s too much to bear. It is pain in his chest, killing him again and again- it is too much for one man to feel. When Zerxus thinks about it- about his love for Elias, for Evandrin, about their love for him- his heart rises into his throat and he chokes on it. It is brutal. This love unmakes him, reduces him to ash and builds him again. He is nothing without it and everything for it. There is color and sunshine and music in the world because of them, for them. Each drop of joy in the world exists for Elias and Evandrin alone. There could be no purpose for bright and lovely things, other than for the loves of his life to enjoy, for Elias to discover with happy giggles, or to light up Evandrin’s face with delight.
Zerxus has many things he lives for, and two people he exists for.
They show it, rather than say it, dancing delicately around the words for months. It is implicit in every kiss, in each gentle caress of their bodies, each whisper breathed to each other late at night. It’s evident when Evandrin trusts Elias to his care, when Evandrin hands his son to Zerxus, and the boy smiles.
Then, Elias turns six months old, and it is an unassuming day but an important one nonetheless. Zerxus is dancing around the kitchen, Elias on his hip and cuddled against his shoulder. He’s humming something of a lullaby, one he half remembers from his own youth when Evandrin comes home. It’s the break of dawn, delicate pink light just staring to peer in through the windows.
Evandrin has just finished a night shift, and Zerxus had stayed over with Elias, who decided to start the day very, very early.
He takes them in; both his child and partner have bleary eyes. Elias is sucking his thumb and hiding his face from the light. Zerxus’ hair is uncombed and he’s still dressed in his sleepclothes. He’s swaying around the kitchen, humming to fill in the blanks when he forgets the words to whatever song he’s singing. His voice is still gravelly, this early in the morning.
Evandrin stands in the doorway, smiling faintly as he watches. It’s nearly half a minute before Zerxus notices him there, and when he does, there’s a burst of shock across his face that quickly melts away to something much warmer and softer.
“Good morning,” Zerxus says, grinning. Elias stirs in his arms and peers at Evandrin with big, sleepy eyes, but doesn’t otherwise move towards his father.
“Morning,” Evandrin breathes and floats closer to them. Zerxus wraps his free arm around him, and Evandrin presses a kiss to his forehead, then another to Elias’.
“I love you,” he says softly, suddenly, looking directly into the warmth of Zerxus’ eyes.
Zerxus stares at him, delighted, now fully awake.
It’s not like they didn’t know. Both of them. They knew.
It just hadn’t been put into those exact words, yet.
Zerxus leans in and kisses him again. “I love you too,” he says seriously, although he’s beaming brighter than the sun shines.
Evandrin exhales through his nose, his heart pounding. It’s nearly insane, how far gone he is for Zerxus.
Elias squirms and coos, and reaches out to grab Evandrin’s face.
Both men chuckle, but their eyes never leave each other.
It is a leap of faith, to say it. Zerxus confesses that he didn’t believe in love at first sight until he met Evandrin. That the intensity of it all scared him. That he’d never felt so deeply before.
I love you, and I know you love me too, and I will not leave because of it, Evandrin tells him. It is a gentle reminder, in the raw vulnerability of their passion, that they will not willfully hurt each other. That they are there to stay.
And so: I love you, Zerxus breathes against Evandrin’s sweaty skin. I love you, he moans, when their bodies are entangled and all Zerxus can feel is Evandrin’s hands on him. I love you, he whispers, and it is often the last thing he thinks or remembers before falling asleep each night. I love you, he says before kissing Evandrin goodbye whenever they must part.
He thinks it again now, during a sleepy dawn after a long night. They had both worked the evening before, but Elias and adrenaline both kept them awake, so instead of sleeping, they talked for hours, muttering half coherently to one another. Zerxus lies facing Evandrin, their hair spilling across pillows and tangling, their limbs intertwined as well.
“I love you,” Zerxus says. “I love you so very much.”
What Zerxus doesn’t say is that he knows every inch of Evandrin’s skin, that he knows the tanlines on his arms and neck, that he knows the number of freckles on each of Evandrin’s shoulders, that he has a thousand words to describe the exact color of his hair (red, to start, but also: fire in the sunlight, gold when it’s caught in the last light of the day, brown and heavy when it’s wet, thin and fine and delicate threads of silk, soft in Zerxus’ hands-), that there are calluses on both his hands but more on the left, his dominant hand, that his skin is rough sometimes, weathered by the sun and years of swordwork, but other times, his hands are soft and gentle because he’s just put oil on Elias’ sensitive skin. He knows he can feel each of Evandrin’s vertebrae, but only when his back is arched, he knows that Evandrin’s abdomen isn’t sharply defined, but when he puts his hands on his lover’s stomach, he can feel the toned muscle beneath him. He’s lean enough that Zerxus can trace the outline of his pelvis bone with his fingers, small enough that when they hug, Evandrin about disappears into the embrace. He knows the gentle pride and overwhelming joy that lights up Evandrin’s face when he looks at Elias, knows the quiet weariness and frustration in his hunched shoulders after a long day. He knows the proud smiles that are just for Laerryn, and the teasing grins, the amused glances, the wonder in his eyes, the love the love the love that fills his face and puts a spring in his step and makes Evandrin glow like pure starlight.
That glow is just for him. That glow is a testament to their love, their devotion, and the depth of their bond.
For Zerxus, the way Evandrin looks at him is the meaning of the universe. It is a reminder of all the things about love Evandrin has taught him: what it means to love every part of another person, and to love them with every part of yourself.
I know you in my soul. Every piece of you has been written into the very fabric of my being, and I realized this the very first time I saw you. I knew you, all of you, in every conceivable way, from the second you first told me your name. I knew then, as I know now, that our destinies were written as one. There is no part of my story that is without you. Every part of my past led to you, and you are my present, and you are the only future I could ever want or dream of.
“What is it?” Evandrin murmurs, his eyebrows pinched together, and Zerxus’ breath hitches. Evandrin wipes under his eyes, and Zerxus realizes that he’s crying, hot tears on his cheeks.
“I love you,” Zerxus chokes. “I love you so much I can’t stand it.”
Worry flashes to confusion fades to relief and endearment. “I love you too,” Evandrin says, pressing a kiss to Zerxus’ temple. He meets Zerxus’ eyes, and his own are shining. “I know,” he whispers, and when his voice wavers, Zerxus understands they are feeling this love in the same way. “I know it, too.”
When they rise, it is because they are restless and hungry. Elias’ room is finally quiet; they surmise that he’s asleep, for now. Evandrin and Zerxus share fruit and bread for breakfast, then Zerxus kisses Evandrin, and tries to make his goodbyes.
“Stay,” Evandrin says, and grabs Zerxus’ hand.
“I need to go home,” Zerxus protests, and Evandrin shakes his head. “I need to bathe. I need fresh clothes.”
“Get your things and come back here.”
“Change and come back?” Even before Evandrin shakes his head again, Zerxus knows that’s not what he needs.
“Pack up your house and bring everything here. Then, stay.”
“Move in?”
“Come home.” Evandrin juts his chin out stubbornly. “You spend more time here than anywhere else. I love you, Elias loves you-“
Zerxus cuts him off with a kiss. “Yes,” he says. “My love, you do not need to convince me. I am yours. I will stay.”
It is a simple routine of caring for Elias and going to work, and finding moments for themselves somewhere in between. There is balance, a gentle bliss to their domestic life, and it is good.
There are other serious conversations, beyond I love you and move in with me. There are difficult parts in building a life together, but they face them together and that is enough.
Much of it is good, though, like when the three of them are sitting together in the lounge, Elias crawling between their laps. Evandrin reaches out to smooth back Elias’ hair, then glances at Zerxus and grins.
“Darling,” he says slowly. “You know that when Elias talks, he will call me Ada. It’s what I called my own father.”
Zerxus raises an eyebrow, but nods. Evandrin’s father was an elf, and Evandrin has always been Ada, not Dad to Elias.
“I would like for him to call you Dad, Zerxus.”
“Oh,” Zerxus chokes, and Evandrin’s expression softens, . He squeezes Zerxus’ hand.
“Are you sure?” Zerxus manages. “I-“
“You love and care for him as a father does, Zerxus. You have devoted yourself to his care since before you moved into this house. You are very much his father; you are his parent as much I am.”
He nods, closing his eyes. Evandrin squeezes his hand again, and Zerxus clutches back, taking a breath to steady himself.
“I would be honored,” he says, voice trembling. “I- Evandrin, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how lucky I am to be a part of his life. That I found you and him both. That we are family chosen and made. That you trust me with your son, to care for him and love him. Truly, it’s an honor, Evandrin.”
The half-elf smiles, sincere, and presses their foreheads together. “Our son, my darling. He and I both are lucky to have you.”
Evandrin wants to be First Knight.
He’d said this the night they met; that this was how he wished to serve Avalir. Those were the principal goals; to raise Elias and to become First Knight. Since meeting Evandrin, Zerxus’ own goals have become similarly aligned, but.
That is another serious conversation they have.
“I want this.” Evandrin’s jaw is firmly set. “I have wanted this since returning to Avalir.”
“Then you will have it.”
“Elias-“
“Will be in my care.” Zerxus grips his partner’s shoulders. “My love, you will be First Knight. If you are gone more because of it-“ Evandrin bows his head, and Zerxus strokes his cheek, lifting his head up again. “-then we shall miss you dearly and celebrate your successes as they come.” He leans in, kissing Evandrin tenderly. “But do not worry about Elias. You will be First Knight and I will care for him.”
And so Elias grows, and the more Evandrin works, the more Zerxus stays home to care for their son. Zerxus does not sacrifice his own job entirely, so there is a greater need for their nanny, but part of Zerxus’ heart breaks every time his son is left at home without one of his fathers. Evandrin works nearly twice as much as he once did, and Zerxus half as much, and that becomes their way of life.
It is a subtle thing, at first. But change takes hold, and it does not let go easily.
Elias’ cries pierce the night. Zerxus stirs first, but Evandrin wakes and stumbles out of bed before he can get up staggering into the nursery. He listens to Evandrin’s quiet murmurs, mixed in with muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor. The routine is so familiar, Zerxus knows it by sound alone: Elias has been changed and attempted to be fed, and still, he cries.
Sleep does not retake him, not while Evandrin struggles and Elias sobs. He figures- by the count of a jagged lullaby repeated over and over- it has been half an hour since Elias first woke them, and that is when Zerxus rises too, going to his partner and his son. Evandrin looks up at him with tired eyes, wordlessly handing over Elias, who squirms against his chest, burying his face into Zerxus’ tunic. He sobs, a pathetic, heartbroken sound, and Zerxus begins to rock him, rubbing soothing circles into his back.
Zerxus sits in the nursery’s rocking chair, Evandrin standing behind him. Elias begins to settle, his cries gradually quieting. They rock, and just minutes later, Elias is asleep.
“I’m impressed,” Evandrin murmurs, and when Zerxus looks up at him, his brow is pinched together. Then, his expression neutralizes, and he leans down to kiss the top of Zerxus’ head.
“Mm.” Zerxus stands carefully, but Elias isn’t disturbed until Zerxus makes an attempt to set him down. His eyes fly open and he gives a small cry. Zerxus sighs and brings Elias close to him once more.
“He just wants you,” Evandrin muses, then he presses a kiss to Zerxus’ cheek. “Come, then. Bring him to bed with us.”
Zerxus obliges, pulled into their bedroom with one hand and holding Elias with the other.
Elias is nearly a year old, and although Zerxus could have never predicted these circumstances, he finds himself fussing over development milestones. Their baby (his son) is already standing, clutching to their legs or furniture, wavering there as if he’s trying to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other and walk. Cerrit has been teasing them both, that they no longer have a baby, they have a toddler- Maya, who is about two, has been walking and flying already, and Zerxus suspects that it’s mostly a want for commiserating that prompts this teasing.
But Zerxus knows Elias will talk before he walks- Elias babbles incessantly, with clear confidence. He knows exactly what he’s saying, even if Zerxus can’t understand him.
“Dada,” Zerxus will say to him.
“Ada,” Evandrin insists a moment later. “My little love, it is the same sound but in a different order. Ada.”
And Elias will reply with something intelligible, and Zerxus will resolve again to keep talking to Elias until he’s granted a reply.
The three of them are together, on a rare lazy afternoon. Evandrin is making them lunch, Zerxus trying to prevent Elias’ own food from ending up on the floor. When he fails, Zerxus sighs, picking up berries off the floor and moving into the kitchen to dispose of the sullied fruit, but he turns his back, and-
“Dada,” Elias whines, kicking his legs. Zerxus and Evandrin both freeze, and Zerxus turns slowly around.
“Say that again,” he says, breathless. Elias meets his eyes, his face lighting up.
“Dadada,” he says proudly, and then Zerxus is laughing, scooping him out of his high chair.
“Dadada,” Elias continues, tugging at Zerxus’ beard. He hardly cares, because then Evandrin’s arms are around them both.
“My clever boy,” Evandrin coos, kissing Elias’ forehead, then Zerxus’. “You are so smart already.”
Elias stands, clutching the end of the sofa tightly. Zerxus holds out his arms to him, waiting, and then Elias lets go, standing on his own. He takes an uncertain step towards Zerxus, whose breath catches in his throat. Then, another step on wobbly legs, and Zerxus laughs with pure delight, but then Elias loses balance and promptly falls on his rear end. The laugher leaves Zerxus instantly, his face sobering, but then Elias peers up at him, grinning, and bursts into laughter.
Relieved, Zerxus’ smile returns, and he sweeps Elias into his arm, peppering him with kisses all across his face and belly.
“Look at you!” He gushes. “My sweet boy.” Almost instinctively, he looks around the room for Evandrin, then remembers his partner is gone for the day. Instead of sharing his joy with Evandrin, he buries his face in Elias’ downy hair. “Your father will be so proud of you.”
“Dadadada,” Elias insists. “Ada.”
“Yes, my love.” He kisses Elias’ forehead, and the boy squirms in his arms. “You will have to show off your talents when Ada gets home.”
When Evandrin returns, far later than his shift was scheduled to end, both Zerxus and Elias are asleep. He does not get to see a demonstration of Elias’ new skill until the morning comes, and when Zerxus sees the hurt shining in Evandrin’s eyes at what he’d missed, he kisses his love, assuring him that there are many days to come that they may share together, and that instead will be enough.
---------------
One year to the day they met, Evandrin takes Zerxus to the garden where they spent their first evening together. They ascend, hand in hand, to the rooftop overlook, and then, once a peaceful quiet has settled between them, Evandrin kisses Zerxus sweetly before dropping to one knee, producing a ring with a twisting gold band and dark glittering amethysts and sapphires.
“Zerxus,” Evandrin says. “I want to marry you.
“You are the love of my life and the father of my child and the other half of my soul. I knew from the moment I first saw you: our fates are intertwined and I am meant to spend the rest of my life loving you. You, Zerxus Ilerez, my beloved, are the only one who I could ever want-” He chokes then, visibly biting back a sob. “I want you. I need you in my life, every day, so long as I should live. I love you so much. Please-” tears begin to spill over, slipping down Evandrin’s cheeks. “Marry me.”
Zerxus laughs, a sound of pure joy; his legs wobble beneath him, and he too, sinks to his knees, crouching at Evandrin’s level.
“Yes,” he manages. Zerxus is crying too, tears blurring his vision. “Yes, of course.” He leans in to press his forehead against Evandrin’s; his tears drip down onto his love’s face and mingle with the salt already there. “I will marry you,” Zerxus says, and then Evandrin is kissing him desperately, full and hungry, grabbing him by the shirt and tugging their bodies flush. “I’m going to marry you,” Zerxus gasps, between kisses. “I love you so much.”
“We’re getting married,” Zerxus declares, grinning, and Cerrit and Nydas beam at them, instantly offering warm congratulations. Laerryn, however, just looks at Evandrin and smirks, and Patia and Loquatius share a shit-eating grin.
“You don’t have to be so smug about it,” Zerxus complains, his shoulders sagging. Beside him, Evandrin laughs, and it is a sound still as beautiful as the first time Zerxus heard it.
“In our defense,” Quay says, although he’s smiling now, warm and genuine, “we’ve known you two were going to get married since the night you first met.”
Nydas laughs at that, then folds Zerxus into a hug. “It is not a surprise,” he confirms. “Though it is joyous news nonetheless. Congratulations, brother.”
It is the first and last step of a journey together; long have Zerxus and Evandrin dedicated themselves to building a life together. Their son will only ever know Zerxus and Evandrin both as his parents; they have a home and a family together already, and, in many ways, that completes the first part of their lives as partners. Concurrently, their engagement- their looming marriage- is the foundation of all of this- they are each other’s spiritually, mentally, physically- and now contractually.
“It is the solidification of our lives together, in the eyes of the gods,” Evandrin says, then his lips twitch and he rolls his eyes. “Or in the eyes of Avalir, legally speaking.”
A wedding, rings- these things mean less than waking up beside each other every day, less than raising a child together, less than choosing to spend their time together, less than confessing their hopes and dreams to one another.
But it is nice to formalize it. And better still, they can celebrate their love for the whole world to see, in a celebration that has Avalir buzzing with excitement.
They wed at the end of summer. It rains all day, then the skies part an hour before the ceremony, and they resume their plans of marrying in an outside courtyard, in Gallamor, near where they first met.
Both men don robes of deep blue and ceremonial armor. Evandrin is already more decorated than Zerxus, but that hardly matters. They had been parted early in the morning, Elias left to Cerrit’s care. When they meet again on the altar, they have eyes only for each other. The crowd- which includes the Ring of Brass, and the Ring of Silver, and many other prestigious figures in Avalir- whispers softly amongst themselves, but Zerxus does not hear. There, in front of him, is the love of his life.
“Welcome, all, to this most joyous union…” Quay begins, focusing on the two men before him, then smiling widely out at the crowd.
Evandrin beams at him; he’s always beautiful, always shining, but Zerxus especially knows it now. He’s resplendent, teeming with joy. Zerxus loves him so much.
But Zerxus thinks on it too long, and his eyes fill with tears; he takes half a step closer to Evandrin, who gives a watery smile and reaches up to hold his face. He presses their foreheads together, and they stand like that while the Quay continues. He speaks of love and commitment and Zerxus half listens, but mostly, he’s focused on Evandrin, who wipes the tears from his cheeks and breathes with him, until:
“Do you, Evandrin Alterra, swear to love, protect, and honor this man, as long as you both shall live?”
Evandrin beams at Zerxus. “I do.”
“And do you, Zerxus Ilerez, swear to love, protect, and honor this man, as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.” His voice cracks.
“I now pronounce you wed. You may kiss.”
They do. Zerxus eagerly closes the gap between them, and Evandrin responds in kind, and that is the beginning, and the end.
For the most part, their life together is utter bliss.
Elias grows and flourishes; he talks in full sentences and runs everywhere he goes. When Evandrin gets home in the evenings, Elias squirms out of Zerxus’ arms and sprints across their foyer to his father. It is those moments, when Evandrin is peppering Elias with kisses, holding him in his arms, when Zerxus comes over to embrace them both, that he cherishes the most. His family, together.
Zerxus works and maintains their home. In the city, he finds himself acting the part of a perfect guardsman, but often, he longs to be at home with Elias. That is, after all, where his heart truly resides. Not rarely does he get to work alongside Evandrin, and those are his favorite days, but even then, he wishes they were away from everything else, the three of them, together.
It’s harder still when Elias starts school. At first, he’s only gone a few hours a day, but as he makes friends, as teachers and fellow parents report that their boy is so smart, so social, Zerxus finds himself running out of unselfish reasons not to enroll him full-time. The house feels empty in the absence of his son and husband; Zerxus supposes he will dedicate these new extra hours in the day to Avalir. On the days when he does not even have that to occupy his time, Zerxus works out or sits and writes and writes and writes in his journal- about Evandrin’s mood that day, or his progress with his career, or about Elias’ new friends and what he’s learning in school.
Evandrin thrives as he rises to greater prominence. Apparently, defending Avalir from higher threats also requires mingling amongst the upper echelons of their society. At events that Zerxus is expected to attend as the husband of someone more important, he’s more than happy to be Evandrin’s gracious partner, smiling and nodding as he makes elevated connections.
Although Evandrin and the Ring of Brass almost always accompany Zerxus to these occasions, he frequently finds himself off to one side as his most ambitious friends schmooze and mingle. Loquatius is nearly always swarmed by someone with a story pitch or an adoring fan. Nydas and Patia have favors to be exchanged with gods know who. Laerryn, in her infinite busyness, sweeps through parties before disappearing. It is Cerrit who stands beside him most, sometimes even more than Evandrin does. They observe from a distance, participating when called upon. They are known, but never center stage, and Zerxus prefers it that way.
It is utter bliss, aside from the moments when Zerxus is pulled from the dream so abruptly that he is left reeling and breathless.
It’s late; they had waited for an hour past Elias’ bedtime for Evandrin to come home before Zerxus insisted it was time for Elias to sleep. His son protested, but if Evandrin was not home on time, then there was no telling when he’d be back, so Zerxus had helped his son to bed. Zerxus has just finished reading a story, but Elias is now oddly quiet, focused on the wooden pegasi he’d taken to bed with him.
“Daddy?”
“Mm?” Zerxus tussles his son’s fire-red hair, but Elias only spares him a glance, his eyes flickering from Zerxus’ face back down to the toys clasped in his stilled hands.
“They- Aundi and Jer at school- they said that you weren’t my real father.”
There is a moment where Zerxus has to remember how to intake air. His next breath is jagged.
Evandrin and Zerxus have talked to Elias about his parentage, of course- that he shares blood with only one of them, but that he is, and will always be theirs. That is one thing, to gently explain the composition of their family.
It is an entirely different matter to defend this claim against four-year-olds parroting gossip overheard from their parents.
“Elias,” Zerxus murmurs. “I am your father and you are my son. In every way that matters. No matter what anyone else says or thinks, you are mine. I have always loved you as a father does, and that will be true until the end of time.”
“Okay,” Elias says, and after a second, he looks up at Zerxus and beams, before rising to his feet and throwing his arms around Zerxus’ neck. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you, too.” Zerxus holds Elias close to him. “So very much.”
Zerxus is living a wonderful life, surrounded by people he loves more than words. But sometimes, he is reminded- whether it be the snide glances of the Rings of Silver and Gold or the comments from Elias’ classmates- others do not see him and his family for what they are. That his station or his blended family makes them less-than.
When Evandrin returns home, Zerxus does not tell him what Elias had said- only pulls him close and kisses him deeply.
Let the others be damned. Zerxus has found a bliss the gods could not dream of creating.
It is one of those blissful, joyous days when all three of them get to stay home, and better yet, one where Elias sleeps past dawn. Zerxus and Evandrin take full advantage of being up before their son is and are just done dressing when Elias bursts through their door. So begins many hours family time- they take Elias to a park then they play “protectors of Avalir” with him (which mostly entails Evandrin or Zerxus pretending to be a monster while Elias hits them with a wooden sword), and when Elias falls asleep, exhausted, the parents make out on the couch until he wakes again.
They’re finishing dinner when there’s a knock at the door; Zerxus gathers up Elias, and Evandrin rises to answer it, his family floating behind him.
Patia stands on the other side, wearing a long forest-green gown. Her hair is down, simply done, and her faint smile splits into a wide grin when she sees Elias.
“Aunt Patia!” Elias squirms out of Zerxus’ arms, and Patia crouches to wrap the boy in her arms.
“Hello, darling boy,” she says. “I brought you something.”
“Patia,” Evandrin says, exasperated, and Zerxus smiles.
As if she didn’t hear a thing, Patia reaches into some hidden pocket and withdraws a figure of a knight that moves on its own before their eyes. Elias gasps, watching it wave a miniature sword.
“Thank you!” he says, and Evandrin sighs.
“You spoil him, Patia.”
“I take care of my own,” she smiles, and Zerxus laughs.
“Please, come in,” he says. “Can I offer you some wine?”
“Of course,” Patia says, moving into their home. Zerxus closes the door behind her; Elias and Evandrin lead the way into the kitchen, the former tugging on his father’s hand to show off the new toy. Evandrin murmurs something to him that Zerxus cannot hear, moving around the kitchen to produce a bottle of wine and three glasses. Wine is poured and pleasantries exchanged, then:
“I have news.” Patia takes a sip of her wine. “Xoraths Ilyserson is planning to retire by the end of the year.”
Evandrin stills suddenly. Zerxus reaches out to take Elias from his embrace, and Elias silently accepts the transfer, although he looks curiously between the adults.
Zerxus’ heart thuds against his ribs. “And?” He presses when Evandrin remains silent. “I do not think you came over here to gossip about the First Knight.”
“His successor is already being discussed,” Patia says slowly. “Evandrin’s name is at the top of the list.”
Zerxus laughs in pure delight; he grabs Evandrin’s arm, clutching it tightly. “My love,” he says. Evandrin remains frozen, shock painted across his delicate features. “You’ve done it!”
“It’s not final yet, Zerxus,” Evandrin says quietly, although Zerxus knows him well enough to hear the hope in his words.
“I doubt Patia would give you false hope.”
Indeed, Patia’s eyes sparkle with joy. She smiles at Evandrin, reaching out to squeeze his hand. Evandrin rouses himself enough to grin back at her.
“Officially, there is no looming retirement and therefore no talk of a replacement. But, when the announcement happens, know that people are advocating to secure your position, Evandrin.”
“Thank you,” Evandrin manages. “Patia, I-” he looks beyond her, eyes far away. “My gods.”
She laughs, the sound crystal clear and nearly musical. “I won’t keep you from celebrating further. Congratulations, Evandrin.”
Once Zerxus cannot persuade her to stay, he sees her out; the front door closes behind her with a cheerful “bye Aunt Patia!” then they turn back to the kitchen, where Evandrin is still standing, looking quite stunned.
Zerxus sets Elias down and immediately wraps Evandrin in his arms. His husband sinks into the embrace, sagging against Zerxus.
“You have worked so hard for this, my love,” Zerxus mutters, pulling away to cup Evadrin’s jaw. “You have earned this title a thousand times over.”
“I can hardly believe it.” Evandrin shakes his head. “To be so close to something I have strived so hard for.”
“It is well deserved,” Zerxus insists, and Evandrin nods.
“Everything will change. Everything-”
Zerxus leans in and kisses him on the mouth, hard. Evandrin melts into it, his lips parting, hands tangling in Zerxus’ hair. Their bodies are flush, Evandrin small and muscled and warm, and Zerxus’ heart soars. Even when Elias groans, they do not part. And all is well.
Evandrin assumes the role of First Knight that winter. There is a grand ceremony; Zerxus’ husband is paraded throughout the streets, made to mingle with the upper echelons of their society even more so. He is given the key to his very own tower, that, for the most part in the months that follow, goes uninhabited while Evandrin stays at home with his family as much as possible. Everyone seems to know Evandrin’s name, and by extension, Zerxus’. Or rather, most of the citizens of Avalir seem to recognize that he’s married to someone important. His fellow guards often tease him, at best about his role as a trophy husband and at worst, making jests about what serving the First Knight in marriage must entail. Quay regularly features Evandrin on news segments, and suddenly, Evandrin is the most prominent figure in the group of friends. Much kinder jokes about that are made between them, but Evandrin had been right that first night- everything changes.
The trajectory of their lives continues in that Evandrin rises to greater power- he is held in higher regard by Avalir, his title means more, his armor comes with more adornments, he works more- and Zerxus balances his own work with managing Elias. Their little boy grows; his fifth birthday looms, and Zerxus can hardly believe that nearly half a decade has passed since he first met Evandrin and Elias.
They’re tucking him into bed one night, Evandrin having arrived home just in time, still clad in his armor. At Elias’ fourth mention of how he can bathe himself and dry himself afterwards, Evandrin laughs.
“Alright, my little love, it is time to close your eyes and sleep.”
“Ada,” Elias whines. “I’m not little. I’m not a baby!”
Evandrin pauses, glancing back at Zerxus. Sadness flashes across for an instant, before it’s replaced by a soft amusement. Zerxus places a hand on his back.
“My sweet son,” Evandrin murmurs, kissing Elias’s forehead. “You will always be my baby, no matter how big you get.”
The first wrinkle in their lives happens on an afternoon several months after Evandrin’s appointment. Elias is dozing in Zerxus’ arms, mostly asleep but fighting it, Zerxus holding him and hoping that he’ll fall entirely unconscious if he lies perfectly still. It’s been a good day, albeit one where Evandrin was gone before dawn. It’s quiet, but-
“Zerxus!”
He jolts upright, and Elias startles. Nydas’ voice is in his head, sharp and urgent.
“What is it?” He thinks back, but Zerxus is already on his feet, headed towards the door. Elias tugs at his shirt; absently, Zerxus palms the back of his head, carding fingers through his hair.
“Some beast got loose near Gallamor. He’s fine now, but Evandrin took a lot of hits. I’m bringing him home. A cleric will meet us there, but-”
“I’ll be ready for him,” Zerxus interrupts. “What does he need? Are you sure he’s-”
“Yes, brother.” There’s a pause, and when he hears Nydas again, the words are much calmer. “Evandrin is truly alright. He assures me it looks worse than it is.” Zerxus’ stomach flips. “He needs a bit more healing for the remainder of his scratches and then some rest. We’re taking a porter now. Be there momentarily.”
“I’ll be ready,” Zerxus replies, and then, out loud: “Elias, go to your room. Please.” By some miracle, his voice doesn’t shake, instead sounding flat and detached. He sets Elias down as he speaks, the movements robotic.
“Dad-“
“Elias, please.” Zerxus softens his voice. “Everything is alright. I just need to meet with some people in private for a moment.”
The boy stares at him for a long moment, then his shoulders slump and he slinks down the hall. Something pangs in Zerxus’ chest, but the feeling is quickly overpowered by anxiety once more. Seconds later, there’s a commotion outside the front doors, and Zerxus is moving without thinking, throwing both wooden doors open. What he sees steals his breath away. Evandin’s arm is slung over Nydas’ shoulder. There are gashes on his face and his armor is wet and shiny with blood.
“Evandrin- !” Zerxus says, moving to take his husband’s weight from Nydas.
“I’m fine, my darling,” Evandrin says, but he sags against Zerxus, and his skin is so, so pale.
“What happened?”
“The- the flying thing, the beast, whatever it was-” Evandrin grunts as Zerxus eases him into the house and down onto the sofa. “-it resisted our magic. I had a handful of mages with me, all utterly useless.” He smiles, all teeth. “I had to hack it to death with my sword. It got a few good swipes in.”
“Right.” Zerxus cups Evandrin’s jaw with one hand and rests the other on his chest, and pours every ounce of healing magic he has into Evandrin. When he’s done, Evandrin’s breathing has eased, and his color looks better, but there’s still blood smeared across his armor and face. Frowning, Zerxus swipes at it with his sleeve until Evandrin catches his hand and stills the motion.
“I’m alright,” Evandrin promises again. He sighs, tipping his head back. “Nydas, I don’t even know why you called for that cleric- my husband has come to my aid, as always.”
“I haven’t even seen what’s beneath your armor,” Zerxus says stubbornly, fingers fumbling with the straps.
“On the contrary, my dear, you have. A great many times.”
“Hush,” Zerxus says as Nydas makes a disgusted sound. “The cleric will look at you and determine if you really are fine. Nyas, please- could you fetch us a towel, or- or something-” he wipes at the blood again, and the display must be pathetic enough that he listens without comment. When he returns, a dwarven cleric is in tow. Together, she and Zerxus remove Evandrin’s armor- the blood is mopped up, more healing magic applied, then Evandrin is deemed fit to change and rest before returning to duty in two days. Nydas helps Zerxus settle Evandrin in bed before he, too, leaves. Briefly, Elias gets to see Evandrin, then Zerxus ushers him out, citing that they should all rest. As soon as the door shuts, Zerxus settles himself into bed beside Evandrin, and it is quiet for a long moment.
“I’m so proud of you,” Zerxus whispers, then props himself on his elbow to look Evandrin in the eye. His husband blinks away impending sleep to stare back, and Zerxus continues. “But sometimes I am so scared for you, I can hardly breathe. The danger of what you do- the sacrifices you are asked to make- I don’t know how I would live if something happened to you.”
Evandrin just pulls him in for a kiss, long and sweet. “Nothing will happen to me,” he says. “I am yours and you are mine, and there is nothing on this earth that will separate us.”
“Evandrin-”
He shakes his head, red hair sweeping against the pillow. “There is no danger that we cannot face. No obstacle we can’t surmount. I have faith in this. In us.”
Zerxus does too. And so, as he watches Evandrin fall asleep, he breathes out and lets the worries go.
That is not the first, nor the last time that one of them is injured while on duty. When the reverse happens, Evandrin is just as distraught, frantic about Zerxus’ health. He huffs that “there is no point to being First Knight if I cannot protect my husband,” to which Zerxus laughs. Endless assurances from either party in these instances do not help, only seeing each other assuages their fears. With each instance, Zerxus resolves that death, that injury will not part them. Their love is too great for something so mortal, so inane, to triumph their great love.
What does come between them is a string of high-profile murders that rocks the city to its core. Evandrin is asked to personally attend to the case, children stay home from school, guard duty is doubled, and Evandrin is either on the streets of Avalir or tucked away in his tower. It is a long, exhausting couple of weeks, where the family is rarely together, and by the time the case is resolved, Evandrin has not slept at home for over ten days. Elias becomes moody with Zerxus, short-tempered and talking back often. And Zerxus-
Zerxus aches for Evandrin. He wants and wants and wants- his body craves Evandrin’s. His soul burns for him. It is the longest they have been parted since they first met, the longest they have slept apart since they married, and Zerxus does not wish for it to ever happen again.
“It killed me,” Zerxus professes once he’s tangled in Evandrin’s arms again, “to have you near and yet gone from me. Nothing in this city could ever be as important as you coming home to me at the end of the day.”
Evandrin answers him with a kiss, but that is not enough. “Touch me,” Zerxus begs. “Please, my love, just touch me.”
Amd Evandrin does exactly that.
But that is not the last time they are parted in such a manner. Avalir demands much of the First Knight.
In the beginning, Zerxus can accept that his husband needs to be gone for days at a time. There are meetings, there is paperwork, there is endless bureaucracy on top of keeping the city safe. Evandrin accepts his duties with a smile, gracious to the people of Avalir and the higher-ups as ever. He hardly seems bothered by it, and so Zerxus makes an effort not to be, either.
A scandal amongst the guardsmen rocks the city, and Evandrin is gone for weeks sorting out the mess left behind. Zerxus tells himself that it will be resolved soon, then things will go back to normal. They do, for a period of time, then a crazed citizen unleashes a group of miniature automantons into Avalir, and there’s a three-day manhunt to track them all down. Evandrin does not sleep for the duration of that ordeal and returns to duty a day later like nothing has happened. A grounded city they fly over threatens to attack, and Evandrin spends a week in peace negotiations, then a quarter of the city guards are laid off, and Evandrin’s hours increase. He is gone from dawn to dusk eight out of every ten days, and Zerxus bears waiting up for him, accepts stolen moments at sunrise, and it’s nearly fine, and-
“Ada isn’t coming, is he?” Elias asks. It’s minutes before a theater performance at school. Elias’ instructors had summoned Zerxus from the audience when his son had started inexplicably crying backstage and wouldn’t calm down. Zerxus had managed to comfort him to some degree, but then Elias looked into his face and asked that question and-
“I don’t know,” Zerxus says, then surprises himself. “I don’t think so, no.”
Elias doesn’t break off into tears again. He seems flat, calm. Zerxus cannot make sense of it.
“He never shows up to anything anymore,” Elias says quietly. “He’s always busy.”
Protests die on Zerxus’ lips. He wants to say that isn’t true, that Evandrin tries, that surely, there has been a recent instance of Evandrin showing up to a rehearsal or concert or some other event featuring their son- but nothing comes to mind. Instead, all he can do is draw Elias closer.
“I’m here,” he says, and knows the words are an empty reassurance.
Zerxus returns home with the idea of talking to Evandrin, to explain that Elias is feeling neglected as of late. But Evandrin does not come home until nearly midnight, when Zerxus is already asleep, and he’s gone by sunrise the next day. Something strange stirs in Zerxus’ chest, an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling. Mentally, he rehearses the conversation he wants to have- but then Evandrin works late again, and the words become harsher. Then, between Zerxus’ own shifts and Evandrin’s schedule, it is three days later before an opportunity arises for them to have an actual conversation.
Elias is already sleeping when Evandrin comes home. As if nothing is wrong, he steps into Zerxus’ arms, kissing him gently. Zerxus stiffens in the embrace. Evandrin, of course, notices, pulling back to look Zerxus in the eye.
“What’s wrong?” His voice is pure honey, all soft concern. Zerxus’ stomach flips.
“You missed Elias’ play,” he says numbly. “Three days ago.”
“Oh!” Evandrin curses. “My love, I’m sorry- Loras needed some reports done and I-”
“It’s always them,” Zerxus says. “Or some report, or-”
“It’s part of my job, Zerxus,” Evandrin frowns. “I answer to them.”
“What about us? What about Elias?”
“What?”
“When does your loyalty extend to us?”
“My loyalty? Darling, where is this coming from?”
“I hardly see you!” Zerxus explodes, spinning away from Evandrin and throwing his hands into the air.
With his back turned, he doesn’t see the frown on Evandrin’s face, the furrowing of his brow. “As First Knight,” he begins slowly, carefully. “I have a duty to Avalir-”
“Avalir be damned if this city is the reason you never come home! If Elias wonders why you are always gone-”
“Don’t-” Evandrin begs, stepping closer to Zerxus. “Don’t say that.” He tugs at his hand, and Zerxus pulls it away. “You know I will always come home to you. How much I love you, but-”
“That should be it! You love me, and there should be nothing else that matters!”
“Zerxus…” Evandrin’s tone softens; the anger seems to leave him all at once. “You knew when we wed that this job… what this city means to me.”
“I understand a duty to this city, but not at the cost of your family. Of your son.”
“I do this for him. For you.”
“If you loved me-”
“Don’t ever say that.” Evandin’s voice cracks like a whip. “You know I love you. You know how much I love you.”
Zerxus gasps suddenly, and although he ducks his head to try and hide it, tears begin slipping down his cheeks. Fury burns in his chest- he has been angry with Evandrin for so long. He’s no good at it, being upset with the man he loves most in the entire world, but perhaps that is easier than admitting he’s been hurt by him instead.
“I’m sorry,” Evandrin murmurs, rushing to Zerxus and wrapping his arms around him. “I’m sorry, darling-, I-”
“No- no,” Zerxus pulls away far enough to look at Evandrin’s face, wipes the welling tears from his eyes. “I just miss you, that’s all. Please don’t be upset with me.”
“I miss you, too. I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.” And Evandrin leans in and kisses him hungrily.
They communicate as much over the next few hours; Evandrin professes his love for Zerxus with his back arched, buried inside of him, shaking, coming undone. Their hands are intertwined, and Evandrin sobs it against Zerxus’ neck. After he’s lost all control and it’s only Zerxus’ steady hands planted on his hips keeping them moving, he babbles it; that Zerxus is perfect, that he’s craved only this for so long, that this, only this, matters more than the sun and the stars and the moons themselves.
“I’ll try,” Evandrin whispers, when their hearts have slowed and sleep is about to take them. Zerxus blinks at him slowly, raising Evandrin’s knuckles to his lips. “I swear to you, “I’ll try. I’ll be better.”
His husband only draws him into a tighter embrace, and they sleep.
“I love you,” Evandrin tells him later. “I have loved you since the dawn of the universe, and I will love you after I am ash and dust, and the last star in the sky has gone out.”
Zerxus knows he means it. He tells himself that nothing else matters so long as this is true.
Evandrin does try. There are still late nights and weeks when he hardly comes home, but now there are more apologies, more days off that follow. Elias stops asking if Evandrin will show up. Zerxus resolves to give him more grace, and life continues on.
Before he knows it, Replenishment approaches, as does Elias’ seventh birthday, and the wedding of Loquatius and Laerryn. Their friends tell them they aspire to be as insufferable as they are; Evandrin and Zerxus take that to mean they are models of married life.
There are a great many celebrations to prepare for. A wedding, all the ceremonies that come with the Replenishment. Guard duties give way to party preparations; Zerxus doesn’t think he’s ever seen the Ring of Brass so busy.
That extends to Evandrin in particular. It’s yet another late night, Zerxus drowsing on the sofa while he waits up for Evandrin. He’s startled by the front door opening- his eyes fly open to see Evandrin slipping in, his shoulders hunched in a failed attempt to make himself small and quiet.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs when Zerxus stands to greet him, folding him into an embrace.
He’s been gone long hours recently, helping Laerryn with some of her workload. Zerxus tells himself he doesn’t mind, so long as his husband comes back home to him. And he has.
“Don’t be,” Zerxus whispers, and cups Evandrin’s cheek, bringing him in for a kiss. Evandrin smiles against his lips, lingering close once they part.
Zerxus frowns then, as he takes Evandrin in. He’s paler than usual, his eyes duller, worn.
I fell in love with you all at once. It shocked us both, especially the reciprocity of it. You flirted with me like you did everyone else, except I caught some of your smiles that seemed more genuine. You took me to dinner but not home to bed, and I knew. Alfred seemed surprised to accommodate me for lunch instead of a morning-after breakfast. And when those came, he was surprised that there were several.
I know it snuck up on us. You, perpetually alone when it came down to it, and me, unprepared to fall in love with the billionaire playboy. The newspapers didn’t exaggerate your charm, but they never warned me there was something real underneath. I said yes to a first date because you were handsome and charismatic and you listened when I talked about the logistics of organizing a charity event. You listened for hours and you cared, too, and then we became something real.
One day, I woke up. You had gotten in late, and I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to come over. You had carried me to bed and laid down beside me. When I opened my eyes in the morning and found you there, I knew. I wanted to build a future with you. I woke you up with a kiss, and you knew then, too. As the sun rose that morning, the pieces clicked into place. There you were: the other half of my soul.
---
I didn’t love you right away.
How could I have? You charmed me, but I didn’t know you at first. You were untouchable until you opened yourself up to me, and the real Bruce Wayne started to bleed through.
It was gradual, but it still stunned me when I realized. All of the sudden, I couldn’t imagine life without you. I realized that in every room I was in, my eyes went straight to you. I told jokes to make you smile; I lived to make you laugh, and my heart sang when you were happy because of me. I could feel my heart tugging towards you every time you were near; I felt it ache when we were parted. You became the center of my universe. I wanted no days without you there beside me. God knows what life would throw at us; if death or life forced us apart, I would love you still, even a ghost or a memory of you.
How did I know I would spend the rest of my life with you? It was long before you asked me to marry you. It was when you told me you were Batman. It was when you invited me to live in your family home, when you adopted Dick. That’s when we became a family- no matter what would happen next, we were connected through our son. There were the acts, the binding ties, that solidified it. There it was: I trust you with the barest, deepest parts of my soul. I trust you with the most vulnerable parts of me without hesitation. I put my life and my heart in your hands in complete faith that you will tend to them with the utmost care. And you did. And you have.We said vows, the day we became partners for life, to promise as much to each other. But we had already said it before: with each kiss, each I love you, each piece of ourselves that we shared with each other. I knew it that day and a thousand days before then: you were mine, and the other half of me.
Jason, there, alive, in front of her. Jason, grown-up, stubbornly unsmiling, breathing, moving, living, back home.
Laina caught herself staring at him. Like if she looked away, he would disappear, and it would just be her and his ghost again.
(She caught everyone else staring, too. She saw how uncomfortable Jason was when he caught the rest of them staring, and she tried to stop. But. There he was.)
He didn’t stay the night. Just a couple of hours and he was standoffish the whole time.
But he was there. Alive.
Laina hugged him goodbye. He accepted it tentatively.
It was warm in his embrace.
She heard his heart beating in his chest. She heard his heartbeat.
She knew he noticed when they parted that she had to wipe the tears out of her eyes.
(The last time she had checked, he was under a white sheet, and his chest had been cold and silent and still.)
-
Another time, he stayed long enough to fall asleep on the couch.
She rounded the corner and found him splayed out across it, and jumped, her ears flooding with sound, her heart pounding.
Laina didn’t want to sneak up on him. But she watched him for a full minute to convince herself that he was still alive- she watched his chest rise and fall and then ducked into a bathroom to cry, then debated if covering him with a blanket would startle him.
She did place the blanket over him. He didn’t wake.
She put her finger under his nose just to check again. That he was there. That he was breathing.
Laina is my original character who is married to Bruce and also looked after Jason. This is set after Jason dies. First person POV
———
My son is just down this hall. He’s just down this hall, and I’ll see him soon.
They covered him up. It’s so cold in here. The sheet is so thin.
He’s just under this sheet. He’s right there, in front of me.
My hands shake when I lift the sheet and I see his mangled face.
Jason Todd is small in death. Pale and scrawny, and his skin covered in cuts and bruises. His eyes are closed. I will never see his beautiful eyes again.
He is ruined. He is so broken, his skin is tight and drawn over his cheekbones. He looks how he did when we took him in; too thin and too pale and much too battered for a boy his age. It’s not real. He doesn’t look real- he looks dead, and my son cannot be dead.
I reach out to touch his face, and his skin is ice cold. His lips do not quirk up into a smile when I say his name, or even into a determined frown. He doesn’t know I’m there, so I say his name again, and my voice cracks when I do.
He’s cold and pale, and there’s still blood in his hairline.
My knees give out. I think I’m crying- oh god, I’m crying, and I can’t stand. Bruce catches me, and holds me up, and shushes me when I cry out- my son, my baby, Jason, Jason, Jason- come back to me, oh God, please-
When I stop crying, I wipe the wetness from my cheeks, and I look at you. You are pale and still and silent, and that is not like you at all. I press a kiss to your cheek and force myself not to look back when Bruce escorts me out.
Later, the funeral home will call, and Alfred and I will drive on a silent trip. We will bathe you and brush your hair, and dress you in a suit you would hate. We will hold your hand and will warmth back into you, and hold each other when we need to take a break to cry. Your father, who failed you, couldn’t face you, so we prepare you for your funeral alone. Your body will be stiff and we will try to make it look so that you could be sleeping (but you are too still; you starfish when you sleep, enjoying your oversized bed, and you are a light sleeper, at that) and we will each leave you with a kiss.
Alfred will hold my hand on the way home, but again, we won’t talk. There will be nothing to say.
Laina leaned up to kiss him. His arms encircled her as his lips parted and she tasted copper. When they pulled back the taste of blood lingered. She ran her thumb across his bottom lip, where it had started to bleed again. He stared down at her, affection softening his features. His eyes were darkened by something else though, and Laina smiled.
“Still pent up?” She murmured, running a hand along his bicep.
Bruce grunted, giving half a shrug, so Laina kissed him again. And again, until he was kissing back, clinging to her.
//
“Come on,” Laina panted. “Stick it in me, Batman.”
Bruce went perfectly still, then signed. Laina grinned, pushing back his hair and ground her hips against him again.
His face remained impassive, save for a spark in his eye that Laina knew all too well. Her smile widened.
Bruce and Laina decide to get married a second time after a few months of separation.
Because reasonably it’d be hard to stay married to Batman and hard to stay away.
———
It was a good night.
Their kids and the whole extended mess that composed their family had gathered for a bonfire and s’mores- Laina sat, curled into Bruce, a flannel blanket covering them both to guard against Gotham’s night air. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear, and she laughed, bringing Bruce close to kiss him. He obliged, leaning down and meeting her lips happily.
They separated a moment later, but Laina pressed her forehead against Bruce’s and stayed there.
“I would marry you twice,” she said, and Bruce stilled, his breath catching. She smiled at him, stroking the back of his hair.
“Legally, we’re still married,” he said after a long pause, and Laina laughed.
“Is that a no?”
“No,” Bruce shook his head, grinning. “I’d marry you twice, too.”
“Okay.” Laina beamed at him, smiling impossibly wide. She kissed him again. “Good.”
He hummed in agreement before pulling her into a hug. She relaxed against him, claiming both of his hands in hers.
But then Bruce shifted away entirely. “I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her forehead. She nodded, and he departed towards the manor.
Laina gathered the blanket around herself, finally returning her attention to the rest of her family. Most of the kids were engaged in some form of conversation or argument. Alfred, however, caught her gaze, raising a singular eyebrow. She shrugged- God knows what Bruce was up to.
After ten or so minutes, Bruce returned, enveloping Laina in another embrace as he sat down. She looked up at him in question, and he reached into his pocket.
Between his fingers was Laina’s wedding ring, the one she had given back to Bruce the day she moved out. Formerly Martha Wayne’s, unused for the past two years.
“Oh,” Laina said, her voice thick.
“It’s yours.” With his thumb, he wiped the tears from her eyes. “If you want it.”
Laina nodded again, unable to speak past the lump in her throat, and hugged Bruce, burying her face in his neck. He chuckled lowly, but wrapped his arms around her tightly. She showed no signs of letting him go, but Bruce carefully extracted himself a moment later, offering the ring again. Wordlessly, she held out her left hand, and he slid the ring onto her finger.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
“I love you too,” he murmured, and raised her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles above the ring. She laughed out of pure joy, resting their heads together again.
“Somewhere, Beetee’s heart breaks into fragments so small it can never be repaired.”
His son can’t outrun the mutts.
He knows it when he sees the first squirrel. They are appearing too suddenly, too fast, in too great numbers. One latches onto Ampert’s ankle; another launches itself forward and lands between his shoulder blades. Ampert screams, trying to pry them off while still running, but there’s more, jumping on him and tearing away at his clothes and flesh.
Beetee watches with a handful of other mentors. Most have gone to bed, including the others from three. For this, Beetee is silently grateful. Few will witness his son’s demise. Since the feed had suddenly cut away from Haymitch and Ampert, he’d known the moment was near. Either they would succeed and an entirely new struggle for survival would begin, or they would fail and he would witness two young boys be picked off and punished by the Capitol in unimaginably brutal ways.
Ampert stumbles as more mutts attack, clinging to his arms and legs. In the dim lighting, Beetee can see shiny red blood dripping off long fangs, can see where chunks of flesh are missing from his son’s body. They are tearing Ampert apart.
The world narrows to Beetee and the screen in front of him and his son far, far away. He is powerless. Is Ampert thinking of him now, knowing his parents’ anguish as they watch, or is he consumed fully by the pain? Surely he knows, or at least once knew, that they are thinking of him, wishing beyond anything that they could be there with him, defending him or even just holding him through the pain. Beetee had tried to tell Ampert he would carry their love with him, even in the arena. That although they were far away, he would be so dearly loved by them. But as far as saving Ampert goes, it’s a useless sentiment, as useless as Beetee is now. He can only hope that his son doesn’t feel alone in the end. And this is the end. Something has happened in the arena, but whatever it was wasn’t enough. And Snow is ensuring Ampert pays the price.
Ampert falls to the ground. Beetee can hardly make him out through the swarm of squirrels. He catches a glimpse of his face- terrified, scratched and bloody. He’s howling in pain. Where is Haymitch? If he lives, he’s beholden to Beetee’s promise still. His son is suffering.
The squirrels hide Ampert from view. The screams turn to a horrible gurgling sound, then the sound of the mutts overtakes anything else.
Beetee falls from his chair, sinking to his knees on the floor. Surely his son can’t be under the pile of mutts, surely Haymitch has whisked him away. The plan has worked and this is not happening.
Distantly, Beetee’s aware of tears dripping down his face. He cannot see his son. The squirrels chitter and squeal, fighting for room.
Somebody staggers into view. Another moment and Haymitch tosses his hammock to snare the mutts, but the effort is futile. It’s only seconds before those torn away are replaced.
Then, they perk up all at once. First, amongst the golden-brown fur, there’s a flash of white. Then, more white as they run off and what’s left are the bones of his son.
His firstborn. His baby. His son. The night Ampert was born, Beetee held him in the palm of his hand and kissed those curls and called Ampert his own. The boy who made him a parent, deprived of flesh and sinew and organs and even those curls. His eyes, which he shared with his mother, are gone. Beetee will never hold him again, not even get to see a stiff and bloodied body. He will never get to tussle that hair again, close those eyes for a final time, press a kiss to his cold forehead.
Beetee cries out when his heart shatters, slumping over while sobs shake through him. Suddenly, the grief of knowing Ampert would die is reduced to nothing, overshadowed by the giant that is the actual loss.
She kisses Vax until she’s breathless and all she can think about is how his lips are warm on hers and she remembers their last kiss being so cold.
They pause to drink wine and talk and when they kiss again his lips taste like mulled berries and they’re still warm and his hands place themselves on her hips. He holds her close. She leans into him.
He says, “Keyleth,” and “my love,” between kisses, and a fire blooms in her chest. For three decades she has not allowed this fire to grow beyond a spark but now it burns through her and she has love and hope again.
