Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Peter paints a pretty picture sitting at a piano bench. His fingers drift idly over the keys, occasionally plucking a few chords out from thin air. Elias watches from the entrance to the music room, transfixed.

Peter is handsome, a marble statue sculpted by the best artists. Elias has often wondered how they would begin to capture his likeness. The grey of his eyes that can go from cold to warm in minutes, the way his body can stand at militaristic attention and then be the perfect cushion to lean into.

Peter is painfully handsome at times. Rarely, though, is he soft. Since they got out of the Lonely together, it feels that Peter hasn’t stopped being soft. 

Neither has Elias. He tries to remember the days when he had hated Peter, when he’d tolerated him only in deference to the Eye. Now, he couldn’t imagine seeing Peter as anything less than his husband. More than that, his lover.

“You’re staring,” Peter mutters with dry derision. He looks up from the piano at Elias and smiles, a touch sarcastic.

“Always.”

Elias approaches the piano bench and sits hip to hip with Peter. There is room for distance. Elias doesn’t want distance. Peter looks over at Elias and leans in, tilting his head just so to capture Elias’ lips. 

Kisses are sweet and slow, like the languishing pose of a model for her painter. Elias parts his lips for Peter, but their kiss barely even smolders with heat. Instead, Peter breaks the kiss and nudges Elias’ cheekbone with his nose.

“Play a song for me,” Elias requests, bringing his hands up to rest against Peter’s chest. 

“And why would I do that?” Peter says into Elias’ lips.

“Because, my dear,” Elias replies, kissing Peter once more, “I asked you to.”

And to that, Peter is helpless. He draws away, laying his hands against the piano keys. Elias leans into his side and ignores the token grumbling about limited mobility with Elias leaning against him like that. 

Peter loves to play songs that start slow. Songs in minor key, that could easily be read as despair. As Elias watches Peter’s hands pluck at the keys, he can imagine a younger Peter playing this very song. Basking in his isolation.

Now, with Elias right next to him, touching at the hip and shoulder, the song does not feel nearly so sad. Instead of melancholy, the notes feel rather bittersweet. Like looking into a lover’s eyes and seeing it all reflected back at you. The fear that things will never be the same. But it’s alright, because they are together.

Elias watches Peter play, until he becomes fully lost in the music. He closes his eyes, and lets it lull him into peace. When the song finally ends, Peter lifts his hands. Elias, in turn, lifts his head. Peter’s hand comes to lay on his cheek. The coolness of his wedding ring strikes Elias, and he brings a hand up.

“I got you a gift.”

Peter raises his eyebrows. “When?”

“It was for our anniversary,” Elias explains, and Peter nods in understanding. 

“It’s not as terrible as your normal gifts, I hope,” Peter teases.

A biting comment comes to rest on Elias’ lips, but what comes out instead is, “I think you’ll like this one.”

He pulls Peter’s left hand into his own, spinning the gaudy band around his finger. Peter looks down, as if entranced by the movement of Elias’ fingers. Elias stands, bringing Peter with him. 

The only sound as they go through the halls is the sound of their shoes against the tile floor. Peter’s hand is warm, tucked in Elias’. He feels trepidation, of all things, wrap around his throat as he opens the door to his bedroom. The last time he’d thought about this thing, it was in despair.

Still, Elias is not one to let nerves prevent him from action. He opens the drawer at his nightstands, pulling out a velvet box. He watches as Peter’s eyes dilate, blown wide at the sight.

“I know you hate this ring,” Elias explains, “I just thought you might like to trade it out.”

He opens the box to expose a ring that is much more Peter’s taste. Tungsten, heavy enough that Peter won’t be able to forget the weight. Peter’s mouth falls open slightly as he lifts a careful hand to touch the metal.

“This was your gift? For our anniversary?”

Elias shrugs. “A person only celebrates a one year anniversary once. If they’re lucky.”

A ghost of a smile lifts to Peter’s lips. He plucks the band out from the box, bringing it up to inspect further. He promptly slides the old ring off his finger and puts the new one on. It fits perfectly. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter breathes, “that you couldn’t give this to me before.”

Elias forces himself to shrug again. The memory of the betrayal still stings to think about. But at least it stings, rather than burrowing a numb hole in his chest.

“It’s yours now.”

Peter looks at Elias, and the force of his undivided attention is too much. He takes a step closer, dwarfing Elias. Elias peers up at Peter - his husband.

“Mine,” Peter murmurs, reaching a hand around to cup the back of Elias’ neck. Elias leans into it, powerless against the force that is Peter’s gravity.

“Yours,” Elias says, the ghost of a vow on his lips.

Peter damn near growls, capturing Elias’ lips. Elias is a small bird, pinned in the weight of Peter’s arms, shrouded from the world by his embrace. With no eyes to see them, Elias wraps his arms around Peter’s neck and leans into him wholly. 

“I love you,” Peter says, the words hitting the back of Elias’ throat. Elias loses his breath for a moment, still unable to hear those words without his heart double thumping.

“I love you,” Elias replies. 

“I’m yours.”

And doesn’t that just ignite a thrill in Elias’ chest. He grins, and traces his fingertips along Peter’s beard. 

“Yes,” he says lowly, a predatory grin crossing his lips, “You’re mine.”

Peter’s eyes get that sheen to them, and it’s all downhill from there.

Love doesn’t keep Peter from his duty. He still leaves on voyages every now and again. Less frequent, with less time between them. But still, Elias wakes up to a lonely bed every once in a while, and has to resist the urge to curl in on himself and submit.

It does make the feeling of Peter slipping into bed all the sweeter. 

Elias can feel the weight of him settle on the bed, which he knows means Peter wanted him to feel it. The bed wouldn’t make a sound or shift in the slightest unless Peter did it intentionally.

Elias turns, and sleep clings heavy on the back of his eyelids, reluctant to relinquish him to the waking world. Peter lays in front of him, still wearing day clothes. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Peter says softly, sinking into the pillows.

Distantly Elias thinks of how disgusting it is that he’s wearing no doubt grimy travel clothes in bed. His tired mouth doesn’t give voice to the thought. Instead he finds himself pulling closer, Peter’s body like a gravity all its own.

“‘S fine,” Elias mumbles, scooting close enough for their knees to touch. Peter’s hand is freezing when it reaches around to splay on Elias’ back. Elias ends up fully tucked into Peter’s chest, forehead against his heart. “Cold,” Elias says, lifting his head to muzzily nose at Peter’s jaw, seeking a hint of body warmth.

“Sorry. The Lonely is still pretty close,” Peter says as an explanation, relaxing fully. It brings a bit of warmth back into their embrace, and Elias drinks it in like a starving man.

“You were gone a long time,” Elias whispers, the words forcing themselves out of his half sleep-drunk lips. I missed you presses desperately against Elias’ mouth, pressing on his hard palate and grinding on the back of his teeth. He has no reason not to say it, Elias supposes. So he does.

Peter makes a small, almost wounded noise. He nods, his jaw bumping the top of Elias’ head. “I did too. I’m sorry I was gone.”

Elias’ eyes fall shut and he dips his head low, breathing in the distinct smell of sea salt and an indeterminable cologne. “‘S fine.”

“I thought we could go out tomorrow?” Peter asks, and Elias tries to get the significance of Peter’s offer to fully sink in, but all his mind has to offer is lingering tiredness and the comforting lull of sleep, made stronger by the feel of someone’s - Peter’s - arms around him.

“Mhm,” Elias mumbles, muffled by the material of Peter’s shirt. 

Peter tilts his head down; the feeling of a soft smile fills the space between them. Peter nudges the crown of Elias’ head with his nose, and his lips press but don’t kiss his hair.

“Go to sleep, Elias. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Elias needs no further encouragement. He yawns once and is asleep by the time his mouth shuts.

Elias wakes to weak sunlight streaming through the windows. He’s shifted in his sleep, rolled over so that Peter’s chest is against his back, his soft breaths hitting the back of Elias’ neck.

Peter is not quite hot enough to make Elias sweaty, but he is uncomfortably warm. He pulls away from Peter and sits up, glancing over his shoulder to see his husband still asleep. Usually he would have been awake long before Elias woke up, leaving the bed cold and empty. But he did come in awfully late. Now that the moment has passed, Elias can barely remember what they talked about, if they talked at all. All that’s left in his memory is the insistent tug of Peter’s body as they held each other.

Peter’s face is soft in sleep, but not kind. Those are definitely his travel clothes, and where Elias would have once thrown a fit about dirty clothes on the white bedding, now he just feels familiar exasperation. He’ll get the man house trained one of these days, damnit.

And oh. Doesn’t that just light a fire in Elias’ heart. Warm and comforting and promising of tomorrow. He tries to snuff it out, not wanting to give too much merit to the thoughts. This will end one day. He stands and goes over to the bathroom, washing his face and getting dressed.

The air is crisp, with early spring just settling into the air. Fog is thick, but the feeling of being outside is something Elias can’t resist. He tugs a coat over his shoulders, fighting off a chill at the cold air. A toasted bagel, tea and a letter all sit on a small table nearby. Elias becomes absorbed in the task, enjoying the feeling of hot food combatting the cool air.

“What are you looking at?” Peter asks, materializing at Elias’ shoulder. Elias doesn’t even look up from his papers, long since used to the occurrence. 

“Report from Gertrude. She needs someone to give her passage to Sannikov Land. I volunteered you as a willing captain, I hope you don’t mind.”

Peter sighs, which morphs into a groan in annoyance. “And why am I going along with this?” 

Elias feels a burst of pride at the unspoken assent. The way it’s not “why should I” it’s “why am I”. The smile creeps around his teeth, his molars peeking behind the curtain. “Because you want to live in a world where the Spiral succeeds in a ritual just as much as I do.”

“Oh, fair,” Peter acknowledges, moving to perch on the arm of the chair. Elias scoots over without thinking, offering an extra inch of space for him. Elias then turns his head and grips Peter’s jaw, planting a kiss in the hollow of his cheek.

“Good morning,” Elias murmurs against Peter’s skin, drinking in the smell of salt. 

“Morning,” Peter replies, turning his head to lean into a proper kiss. 

“You woke me up when you came in last night.”

The words fall from Elias’ lips unbidden. He doesn’t know whether they are a reproach, or an acknowledgement that Peter intentionally wanted him awake.

“And you clung to me like a baby koala to its mother, so I don’t want to hear any of that,” Peter replies.

“Did I?” Elias wonders, his voice carefully detached. He reaches for his half empty tea, taking a sip. Peter plucks it out of his hands and finishes it off, eyes glimmering when Elias glares at him.

“Most definitely. It was all very sweet.”

Elias hums, taking the mug and setting it on the side table. He sets Gertrude’s report to the side, resolving that he doesn’t need to write back. It’s not pressing. “You mentioned going out today?”

“Oh so you remember that but not the way you practically begged to be held?” Peter responds with raised eyebrows and a teasing lilt.

Elias feels himself growing flustered, and presses it down. “You were the one who responded in kind, Your Royal Highness. At least the Eye isn’t known for repelling all human contact.”

Peter’s lips twist into a scowl briefly before he leans into a half-grin. Elias feels no satisfaction from the barb hitting square at the target, and finds himself wanting to move on quickly. They don’t both need to be sitting here awkwardly.

“So when do we leave?” Elias asks. 

“As soon as you can be ready,” Peter replies, glancing at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “So another three hours, I expect.”

Elias shoves at Peter’s shoulder, but the effect is dulled by their shared smiles, wide and exasperated. Teetering on the edge of fond. Peter chuckles, and Elias stands. He grips the front of Peter’s  collar and drags him into a kiss, making his discontent known with a bite to his lip.

“Give me half an hour. I’ll meet you at the stables.” 

It only takes Elias half that time to get ready. He pulls his hair back - it’s growing longer, long enough to pull into a short wolf’s tail - and picks out a sturdy pair of shoes that look nice.

Swift is saddled when Elias goes down to the stables, but Peter’s own horse - a deep black stallion apparently named Hades - is still bare. Peter hefts the saddle onto his steed with ease, and Elias watches, trying not to let that go to his head.

“No carriage?” Eilas asks, making his way to Swift. Swift nudges his shoulder, requesting some sweet treat. Elias offers an apple he’d snagged on his way down, bored. 

“We won’t need it. We aren’t bringing much,” Peter explains, fastening the buckle on the saddle and testing the sturdiness with a tug. He hoists himself onto his horse like he’s done it a thousand times before and Elias just stares, hand still outstretched to his own horse.

“Come on,” Peter coaxes, nodding his head to Swift, “Daytime doesn’t last forever.”

It’s the encouragement - if barbed - Elias needs to get in the saddle. They set off with the sun peeking out from behind the clouds, offering thin beams of light like the heavens presenting a slice of their paradise. Elias tilts his head into it, enjoying the bleak warmth.

It’s just the right kind of chilly, enough to make Elias alert, but not painful. Peter leads surreptitiously, though they ride side by side. He nods in the right direction when they meet a fork in the road. When Elias asks where they’re going, Peter refuses to answer, though he does so with the promise of a smile on his lips. 

Elias sits on his horse with perfect posture, surveying the scene before them. Peter sits much more casually, loping onward with the reins gripped loosely. He trusts his horse, and the revelation strikes a chord in Elias. Does Peter trust any human the way he trusts his steed - does he trust Elias like that?

“Just another mile up ahead,” Peter says, “Won’t be long now.”

“It would be shorter if we were going at a quicker pace,” Elias challenges, and Peter raises his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t aware we were in a rush.”

Elias nudges Swift to move a little faster, and Peter follows in turn. “I’m curious about what you have in store for me.”

“Aren’t you always,” Peter mutters, quiet enough that he probably thinks Elias can’t hear it. Elias scoffs.

“Come on then, just down the path is it?”

Peter nods. For a brief moment nothing passes between them. And then a rare mischievous smile spreads across Peter’s lips, and he says, “I’ll race you.”

Elias blinks. He looks over at Peter, unimpressed. “Really?”

Peter’s smile doesn’t waver. “Come on, you’ve never indulged in a little harmless competition?”

“I am the right hand of the Eye. I don’t stoop to such levels as-”

Elias cuts himself off by flicking the reins and bursting forward in a sprint. Swift obliges without complaint and Elias spares a brief glance back to see Peter’s face change into shocked amusement. He’s not slow, though, and picks up his pace right away.

To Elias’ right the sea beats against the rocky shores. The wind whips at his hair and he can feel his heart thunder against his ribs with adrenaline.

Peter pulls up beside him, and Elias looks over at him. His short hair is blown back by the wind and he’s slouched close to his horse, his tongue between his teeth as he grins. Peter looks over at Elias and he feels his chest squeeze.

“Cheat,” Peter calls over the rush of air between them.

Elias doesn’t deny it. Really, Peter should have expected it. He bends down close to Swift and urges her faster. The path winds away from the sea and deeper into the forest, the trees thick and green around them. Some of them are just beginning to flower.

Elias does not give any credit to his head start when he eventually wins. The path narrows until it’s only wide enough for one horse, and then it narrows even further. 

“We have to go on foot the rest of the way,” Peter says when Elias begins to slow. Elias looks back at his husband, who’s only a little bit behind him. He comes to a stop and swings a leg over his horse.

“I win,” Elias declares as he looks for a suitable tree to tie his steed to while they are gone.

“Only because you cheated,” Peter points out with a hint of bitterness.

“You’re a sore loser,” Elias replies. Peter ties his horse to the same branch as Elias does and pulls a rucksack onto his shoulders.

“Come on. I think you’ll like this,” Peter leaves just enough room in his words to be vague, and Elias knows he does it intentionally to draw out his curiosity. Bastard. It works.

Elias trails behind Peter as they continue onward. A slight film of sweat clings to his back from the exertion of his sprint, but the air is cool enough that it isn’t uncomfortable. The trees are thick and beautiful, and the fog isn’t thick enough to truly cloud the scenery.

Peter leads the way, and Elias finds his eyes wandering to the hand at his side. He could take it in his own if he wanted to. Weave their fingers together and allow Peter to lead him onward. He supposes he could. There’s no one to see them if he does. Elias still keeps his hand to himself.

Peter seems…excited. It’s an odd look on him. His eyes are bright as he turns to look at Elias when they reach a twist in the road. It makes Elias’ chest ache with the sight. Elias fights the urge to tighten his fists against the feeling that overwhelms him at the sight of his husband. 

“Are you ready?” Peter asks.

“I don’t even know what I’m ready for,” Elias points out, faintly quirking his lips. 

“You’ll see. Close your eyes?”

Peter looks like an idiot. Like an adolescent boy waiting on the doorstep of his burgeoning lover’s house as he eagerly hopes for a yes. Elias’ heart squeezes yet again. Damn it all.

“Fine,” Elias replies with a roll of his eyes, “But if you push me off a cliff I know plenty of ways to get back at you.”

“Yes, you’re very terrifying, Elias. Come on then. No time to waste.”

They have all the time to waste in the world. It’s theirs to use how they like. Elias stifles the voice in him that speaks such things as he closes his eyes. Peter guides him by the elbow the remaining distance down the path. He calls out little irregularities in the road for Elias to watch out for with a quiet but steady voice. He jerks Elias at one point when he apparently almost steps on a snail, an action which Elias sharply reprimands him for.

“Alright,” Peter says, and there is no longer quiet around them. There’s a roar of water and he can hear some birds chirping not far away. “Open your eyes.”

It’s beautiful. The waterfall is enormous, the kind of overwhelming rush that leaves a person in awe of the world. For a good few seconds, Elias gapes at it. It’s so easy to think the Lonely is just muted colors, but it finds ways to surprise you, apparently. The green is vibrant and powerful and the life it breathes into its surroundings is intoxicating.

“God,” Elias breathes, and he thinks maybe he’s right. If kings were not born of fear but perhaps of love or hope, the beauty of the word would surely rule with a steadfast hand. It might be heresy to think such a thing.

“I don’t come here often,” Peter says as he leads them further down the path to get closer to the falls. “The wildlife doesn’t know humans, so it doesn’t know to be afraid of us. I don’t want to disturb them.”

It feels achingly intimate to see this part of Peter. He’s seen a shadow of it before, during the solstice. But seeing it now feels more raw than last time. He now has words pounding a tattoo against the bones of his ribcage that he refuses to let out. 

There’s a doe drinking out of the clear water at the foot of the waterfall. She’s gorgeous, and she perks up when she notices the two of them traipsing down to meet her. She bounds away when they get too close, but for a moment there is connection as she stares at them.

“Who would have thought that the Lonely was capable of possessing such loveliness,” Elias remarks as he leans over to look at his rippling reflection. Peter appears at his side, equally distorted.

“It’s not something we like to advertise. The last thing this place needs is tourists.”

That makes Elias laugh, turning away from the water towards the patch of clean grass Peter sets his things on. There’s champagne and cheese and it’s everything in Elias’ power not to tackle Peter to the ground and smother him alive. 

Who would have guessed that a devoted prince of the Lonely could harbor such sweetness?

They eat and watch the water flow down the cliffside. Peter presses cheese into Elias’ mouth and they relish in thin slices of ham and good wine. 

“Have you ever explored the cave behind the waterfall?” Elias wonders, the Eye lending him just enough insight to see beyond the water and into a small network of caves.

Peter sits up straight. “There’s caves behind the falls?”

Elias nods. “You didn’t know?”

“How was I expected to know?” Peter points out, and Elias shrugs. 

“Would you like to see it?” Elias asks after a moment, and Peter nods. 

Getting behind the waterfall is difficult, with Elias unwilling to get his nice clothes any more wet than necessary. They find a way in nonetheless. The cave is dark, save for the slight reflection of water against the grey stone walls. If he tries, Elias can See beyond the entrance to the cave and into the network beyond.

“I can hardly see a thing,” Peter says.

Elias takes his hand, twining their fingers together. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Elias does. The cave is too dark to see unless you happen to be blessed by the Eye, but they make do. He leads them through thin paths and into grottos where pools of water lay untouched. Elias wonders if a single person has ever stepped foot in here before.

“Elias,” Peter murmurs, standing close as they listen to the water lapping at the cave walls. Elias turns into Peter and embraces him. 

“Can you see any of it?” Elias murmurs, and Peter shakes his head. Peter brings a clumsy finger up and tilts Elias’ face upwards so they can kiss. Elias leans closer, and Peter’s arms wrap around him fully. 

Elias looks out at the cave. It’s so beautiful. Even with all the animals here, the distant sound of the waterfall rumbling and the drip-drip-drip from stalactites make the environment almost peaceful.

“I wish you could see it,” Elias admits.

Peter kisses the side of Elias’ head. “Tell me about it,” he murmurs, and squeezes Elias closer.

Elias tells him.

Months pass in what could easily be considered domestic bliss. Hours spent whiling away the time at each other’s sides, reading and playing solitaire and chess and discussing affairs of their kingdoms and having one too many glasses of wine. Sex against every surface they can find, which is quite a lot in such a large castle. Elias still gets correspondence from Gertrude, which he keeps a watchful eye on.

It feels like too much, some days. When Elias looks up from his dinner and catches Peter staring at him with a glimmer in his eye. When Elias glances over to see Peter’s ring glinting in the pale light. But he enjoys it while he can.

The months seem to slip by like river water in the end, undeterred by the wishes of Elias. In the decades - almost two centuries - he’s been alive, he can’t recall ever being so content.

This time, when they go south for the fall equinox, things are different. Elias doesn’t tease and bite like he used to. They sit on the same bench on the carriage ride over. Peter looks over some kind of map of a few scattered islands. When Elias asks what he’s working on, he goes still and simply says, “Trading with another country. They have food we can’t grow here.”

Elias, for his part, is looking at a letter from Rosie. It’s a regular update, not much has gone on that Rosie and Gertrude haven’t been able to manage. No, his eyes are simply fixed to one specific line written in her tidy scrawl.

We look forward to having you back in just a few months.

The words don’t sit right with him. The distance between Peter and Elias in the little carriage seems at once like not enough and far too much. A tightness coils in his chest.

This will end. Whether either of them like it or not. Elias shifts in his seat and folds the paper, tucking it in the back of a book. Best not to think about it. He puts it out of his mind - something he’s always excelled at doing.

Lazlo greets them and Peter and Elias both regard him with cold distance. Pleasantries are briefly endured before they make their way into the townhouse. Peter sits at the bed and begins to unlace his boots, and Elias almost aches at the familiarity of the motion. He’s struck with the urge to kneel and tug at the laces for him, to slide the boots off Peter’s tired feet and perhaps press a kiss to his ankle. He resists the urge. In love or not, he’s above certain things.

“Dinner?” Peter asks, and Elias nods. They change into better clothes and leave the townhouse, Elias’ hand resting on Peter’s bicep.

No children threaten to topple them this time, but people do stare. First openly, and then in hushed glances as they turn to their friends on the street.

“It’s not like we were frigid with each other last year,” Elias mutters.

Peter hums. “No, but things were still different.”

“I’m surprised your people are observant enough to pick up on that.”

Peter laughs. “You never seem to give them any credit.”

“I’d like to see them earn it.”

“Give it time.”

Elias’ chest hurts at that, but he doesn’t point out the obvious. Neither of them need to say it. Or think about it, for that matter.

It’s much easier to sit across from each other at the same table they sat at last time, talking between bites. Elias points out anyone of interest he sees, Knowing their lies and stories. He tells it all to Peter, who eyes a few of them like a shark who smells blood. 

“Those two,” Peter says, and Elias glances surreptitiously behind him. Two women sit across from each other. One of them reaches out a hand and the other one pulls their hand back in a move so quick it nearly knocks over their water glass.

Elias takes a moment to See. “She wants to get engaged. The other’s family doesn’t approve. She…ah. She wants to run away. To the Vast, where she says nobody could find them.”

The observation doesn’t entirely sit right in Elias’ stomach, so he chases it with a bite of his salmon. When he glances at Peter, he looks pensive. He takes a sip of his wine and doesn’t even glance at Elias.

“What?” Elias asks, and that startles Peter out of his thoughts, “Thinking of sending them into the Lonely?”

Peter shakes his head, as if to clear it. “No.”

He doesn’t offer any further explanation. Elias could look, is half tempted. He thinks Peter will let him, his mind is still open and devoid of fog nowadays. Elias keeps his thoughts to himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to know, he tells himself. Rather, he has better things to expend his energy on.

Peter covers the bill with a signature again. They return to the townhouse, arm in arm. Peter kisses him behind closed doors and Elias falls into it like a warm bath, even though Peter’s lips are cold.

Later, they lie in bed together, pressed closer because this bed is smaller than the one back home. In Peter’s castle, rather. Peter’s chest presses against Elias’ back and he stares out into the bedroom, watching the shadows cast by a dim streetlamp.

Elias once considered himself a master of training his thoughts. Now, they seem to run amok in the darkness. Elias can hear the distant sound of townspeople on the streets, laughing or just talking. He thinks about the anniversary in just a matter of months. He could count the months on one hand, if he wanted. Elias doesn’t want to. He pushes the thought out of his head.

“Peter?” Elias asks. 

Peter doesn’t respond, only sighs against the back of Elias’ neck in something that can’t quite be called a snore. Asleep, then.

Elias sighs. Best not to think about it. It’s coming, whether they like it or not.

The day of the equinox itself is full of pleasantries and politics. Though this is not his kingdom, Elias always takes to these games like a duck to water. Decades of practice have taught him exactly how to navigate all sorts of conversations. He enjoys it, the feeling of Knowing something his conversation partner doesn’t. He’s missed it.

The night is when Peter squirrels him away back to that field. They climb up the hill with huffing breaths that border on laughter, talking about the drivel of the day. Peter’s quick wit surprises more than a few laughs out of Elias, and he’s not short on quips either. They sit on the grass and watch the stars flicker into place among the inky darkness of the sky.

“How many people do you imagine have come here before to see the Northern Lights?” Elias asks.

Peter shrugs. “You’re the one who has borderline omniscience.”

True. Elias didn’t really want an answer to the question, though. He couldn’t say why he asked. He leans over to kiss Peter, rather than respond.

They fall into each other like a habit, much like taking your shoes off at the door and brushing your teeth at night. A comforting habit. A ritual. Elias doesn’t know how many more kisses he’ll be able to tease out of Peter before-

No. Best not to think about it.

“I love you,” Peter whispers, and it would be foolish to hope he doesn’t hear the noise that falls from Elias’ lips at the words. His lips curl in a smile that could be called sweet. Peter cups Elias’ jaw and tilts his face to press a kiss to his forehead, lingering there.

“You…” Elias starts, and doesn’t know where he’s going with it. He swallows. “I love you too.”

Peter wraps his arms around Elias’ shoulders and pulls him into his lap. Together, they watch the lights. Elias doesn’t think about the future for the rest of the night. 

At least, he tries not to.

“Elias,” Peter murmurs, approaching from the open door.

Elias lays curled in an armchair. A correspondence with the Desolation lies on his lap as he peruses it, trying to make sense of some sort of Messiah they have planned. He glances away from it to look at Peter.

“Yes, dear?”

Peter comes closer, and leans over the back of the chair. “Come with me?”

Elias nods and shuffles all the papers into an orderly pile, placing it on a cushion. He follows Peter through the castle halls. The fog seems thin today, gathering only in slight wisps of mist that stream through the window light.

“Where are you taking me, my dearest?” Elias asks, reaching forward and curling a hand around Peter’s bicep. Peter glances down and throws a small smile his way.

“You’ll see.”

Peter goes into one of the many offices in the castle, where slews of paper are cast about a large desk. Peter approaches, and Elias follows.

There are maps on the table. Strange maps, ones that Elias has never seen before. Unfamiliar borders and topography, long rivers and mountains.

“What is this?” Elias asks, brushing his fingertips along the ink of a map.

Peter draws in a breath. “These are the places I’ve been outside of the kingdoms. Trade routes and places where I’ve picked up unsuspecting victims for the Lonely.”

Elias swallows. “They look beautiful.”

“We could-” Peter starts all in a rush before he stops himself, “When I visit, I lose the Lonely’s influence on me. Especially the farther away I go. It…er, it may be my king, but it is not omnipotent.”

“What are you saying?” Elias asks, and can feel the answer creeping in behind his eyes. 

Peter hesitates. “We could leave. We could go to one of these countries. We wouldn’t have to feed our kings anymore and we could just-”

“Peter-”

“Look,” Peter says, growing visibly more frantic, pulling out a sheet of parchment. A cluster of islands, all pressed together. The same one he’d been looking at during the equinox. “This is the farthest I’ve ever been from the Lonely. When I was there I couldn’t feel it at all. Maybe if you were there, you could lose the presence of the Eye.”

“Peter-”

“You have to go back in almost a month. I don’t….” Peter draws in another long breath, “I don’t want you to go.”

The admission weighs heavy between them. Elias knows the words don’t come easy to him. He swallows. “Peter-”

“We’ve spent our whole lives as servants of a god who would toss us aside the second we weren’t useful. You’ve spent centuries doing this.”

“Peter…” Elias says again, a warning this time. He can feel the Eye’s curious gaze pressing in and for once he pushes it aside, trying to garner Peter’s attention.

“Haven’t you ever wondered what it could be like to live without them? We could be- We could live together. We wouldn’t have to…to worry about any of it, whether we were betraying our kings-”

“Peter!” Elias shouts, because he simply cannot take it anymore. Peter finally stops and looks at him with expectant eyes. There’s a moment, just a brief moment, where everything feels suspended in time. Where Elias feels the weight of the Eye drop off the back of his mind and the world narrows to just the two of them.

“What are you talking about?” Elias finally asks. The question is still rhetorical, but only because he does not know how else to phrase the myriad of questions on his tongue. Peter stays silent. “This is treason, Peter.”

Peter’s gaze does not waver. “It’s only treason for as long as we are in this kingdom.”

“We would be hunted-”

Peter barks out a derisive laugh at that. “Don’t kid yourself. There are dozens of people clamoring for both our seats of power. I could be replaced in a heartbeat. Even your years of service can be replaced by someone fresh faced and eager for power. No one would come looking for us. We’d be barely a blip in our respective kingdom’s histories.”

Elias feels something tight coiling in the muscles around his back. “You’re being a fool.”

“No, I-”

“Yes, you are!” Elias exclaims, resisting the urge to throw his hands in the air. “You’re talking about giving it all up. For what, exactly? For what, a beach vacation? How long could you last without your king before you start wanting to crawl back here?”

“I wouldn’t,” Peter states, “I would have you.”

Something sharp lances through Elias’ chest at that. For a moment, tenderness flows like mountain spring water. He takes in Peter, his eyes which have gone softer. The hope in his eyes.

“Peter,” Elias murmurs.

Peter takes a step forward. “Elias. When you go back, we may never see each other like this. What reason could the Eye have to send you here again? What reason could the Lonely have for sending me to you?”

“We will see each other at official functions, trade negotiations-”

“And then what? Meet eyes across the table? Confine ourselves to your chambers? Have one dance together and then spend the rest of the night apart from each other? Pretend we don’t care so that the other kingdoms don’t take advantage of it?”

Elias draws in a steadying breath. “We don’t have a choice, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes go plaintive. “Yes, we do. That’s why- I mean, just look. We could go.”

Elias darts his eyes down at the map, the smattering of islands so far away. Peter takes another step forward. He reaches out and touches a hand to Elias’ cheek, drawing their eyes together.

“Come with me,” Peter murmurs, and Elias feels a part of his heart rend in two. He closes his eyes and allows himself to feel it, just for a second.

“I can’t,” Elias says.

Peter swallows. “Please.”

Elias knows what it means to have those lips slip between Peter’s lips. He grits his teeth.

“No, Peter. We can’t.”

Peter’s eyes go from surprise to devastation to coldness in a blink. His gaze turns steely and he drops his hand from Elias’ cheek. A rush of cold sea air fills the room, causing Elias to raise a hand to his eyes and close them.

When the air settles, Peter is gone. 

And Elias is alone.

Peter returns days later. He slides into bed like nothing happened, and for that Elias is grateful. They curl up next to each other and Elias feels a sharp sting of pain at the fact that their days of this are numbered. He pushes it out of his mind. Best not to dwell on it.

Later that day, while they share a bottle of wine, Peter asks, “Are you really just that hungry for power?”

Elias stiffens against Peter’s side. He should have seen this coming. “What do you mean?” He asks, to buy himself a few moments of time.

Peter sighs. “You know what I mean.”

Elias stretches his neck from side to side. “The Eye has always given me what I needed.”

A muscle works in Peter’s jaw. He takes a sip of wine. “Not everything.”

Elias sighs. “I was never unhappy, before you.”

Peter closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the sofa, exposing the long line of his neck. “You’re being obtuse.”

Something sharp and hot lances through Elias’ chest. “ I’m being obtuse? You’re the one suggesting we run off to tropical islands and pretend none of our lives before each other ever happened.”

“I don’t understand why-”

“No, you don’t, Peter. You don’t understand. You’re being ridiculous and expecting me to engage with this like it’s a serious topic of conversation for us to discuss the merits.”

“It is!” 

Elias clenches his teeth and tightens his grip on the stem of his wine glass. “No, it’s not.”

“And why isn’t it?”

Elias nearly laughs, for how stupid Peter is. “You really see no reason why we can’t just uproot our lives and go?”

Peter’s nostrils flare as he huffs. “No,” he says through gritted teeth, “I don’t.”

Elias rolls his eyes. “Alright, then. How do we get there? Are you expecting to take the Tundra? Did you forget that the Tundra belongs to the Lonely before it ever belonged to you? Will the Tundra even sail for you if you’re not doing it at the behest of the Lonely?”

“The Tundra is mine,” Peter hisses.

“And in case you forgot,” Elias says, and he can feel the momentum of his words carrying him along, “You are the Lonely’s. You gave yourself to it, if you recall.”

“I didn’t-”

“Yes, you did,” Elias replies before Peter can finish, “You chose this.”

“I never had another option before now.”

“Of course you did. You just didn’t want to take it.”

“I never had you.”

Peter’s standing now too, towering over Elias as he steps closer. He grips Elias’ lapels, wrinkling the fabric. Elias can’t speak. Elias almost finds himself wavering. For a split second, he considers it. Just a split second.

“You’re being ridiculous, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes harden into a cool anger. “You’re the one so stuck up the Eye’s arse that you can’t see past it.”

Elias grits his teeth. Peter’s hands loosen on his shirt. “You think,” Elias seethes, “that just because you’re learning for the first time what love is, that you’re entitled to everything you want?”

Peter doesn’t respond. His eyes only simmer with frustration.

“Your feelings, your love, ” Elias jabs a finger into Peter’s chest, “does not mean that you can have the world on a plate.”

“I don’t want the world on a plate,” Peter says, smacking Elias’ hand away, “I want you.”

“You have me.”

“For how long?” Peter scoffs.

“28 days,” Elias says, because the days always lay on the tip of his tongue. 

Peter’s face does something complicated and untenable before freezing back over into anger. “And you’re not interested in doing anything to stop that.”

“Of course I am,” Elias hisses, as if by saying the words through his teeth the Eye won’t hear them. The Eye already knows, of course. “But I can’t.”

Peter’s lip twitches in a sneer. “You’re a coward.”

“No less than you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes,” Elias says, calling upon the power of the Eye, “I do.”

The air prickles with power. For a moment, Elias thinks Peter is going to hit him or send him right back into the Lonely. 

And then Peter pulls his hands away from Elias completely. He stalks out of the room, shoulder checking Elias on his way out. When Elias looks out into the hallway, there is no one. 

He’s alone again.

Peter doesn’t stop asking.

“Come with me,” he murmurs into Elias’ ear as they fall into bed together.

Come with me, says a note attached to an obscenely expensive gift.

“Come with me,” Peter proposes over breakfast.

Come with me , Peter traces onto Elias’ skin during coitus like Elias can’t feel it. Like he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

Days slip by. 

Come with me.

Elias keeps finding reasons for why he can’t. He knows he can’t. The Eye’s faint presence lingers in the back of his mind and he can’t. Peter knows he can’t.

And still.

“Come with me,” Peter says as Elias begins to unbutton his shirt. 

Elias slaps him.

Peter stumbles, even though Elias is not strong enough to truly knock him over. He presses a hand to his cheek and gazes at Elias with wide eyes. Fearful eyes. 

Horror and dread creep into Elias like Lonely fog. He swallows. “Peter, I-”

“You’re a coward,” Peter spits, fear misting over into rage.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Elias responds in equal force, and dares to take a step towards Peter, who wavers but doesn’t back down. “I…let me get you something for your face.”

Peter hesitates, but nods. Elias goes into the bathroom and wets a rag with cold water. When he returns, Peter is slumped in a chair. He looks weary. 

Elias presses the cloth into Peter’s cheek, ignoring the hiss of pain Peter makes. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, Peter,” he says, and bites back the excuses, “Truly, I am. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Peter doesn’t look up at Elias, but he nods.

Elias cups Peter’s other cheek with his free hand and tilts his gaze up. Neither of them say anything. The wet rag drips onto the rug.

“Are you really that afraid of losing the Eye?” Peter asks.

“It’s not a matter of fear,” Elias says, and he knows Peter doesn’t believe him but he says it anyway. 

“I thought you loved me.”

“I do.”

“What does love even mean to you?” Peter asks.

“What does love mean to you ?” Elias replies.

A muscle works in Peter’s jaw. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt it before.”

Elias sighs, and adjusts his grip on the cloth. “When the Eye told me to give Barnabas to Mordechai, I thought I would genuinely die from the pain of it. I’ve never experienced heartbreak like that before.”

“Do you think it’ll be easier, being apart from me?”

Elias shrugs. “At least you won’t die.”

Peter shakes his head. “We could both live.”

“We will live.”

“You know what I mean.”

Elias does. He hates it. “It’s not as simple as that.”

“Why not?”

This time it’s Elias’ turn to shake his head. “We chose our path.”

Peter looks away from Elias. He reaches up and clasps Elias’ wrist, rubbing a thumb at the pulse point. There’s a long silence, and the rag grows warm in Elias’ hand. “I suppose I thought love was a promise.”

I love you , Peter had whispered into Elias’ ear as they left the Lonely, clinging to each other so tight that it hurt. 

Elias wants. He wants, so badly.

He forces the image out of his head. He can’t have it. Best not to dwell on it. “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling the cloth away from Peter’s face. Peter drops Elias’ hand.

Peter nods, his eyes glassy. “Me too.”

“I rescued you from the Lonely.”

“Yes.”

“You were in there because you loved me.”

“Yes.”

“I got you out because I love you.”

“Yes.”

“Did that not…did it mean nothing to you?”

“It was everything to me.”

“And still it wasn’t enough.”

“I suppose not.”

Silence. Peter walks away, and doesn’t come back until late in the night.

Conversations like that continue. Peter will appear out of the blue to say things, to ask questions that aren’t questions. Elias answers as plainly as he can, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can spell it out for Peter. When he’s finally going to save them both the pain and stop asking.

The days slip by. 20 days. 14 days. 9 days. 

“I could just kidnap you and go,” Peter says casually, but Elias knows he would never do that. The threat is belied by his tone, casual but resigned. He knows he’s lost the battle before he even starts it. 

And still, he wages onwards.

“You wouldn’t,” Elias only says. 

“Why not?”

Elias makes eye contact with Peter finally. “You know I would never forgive you.”

Peter sighs. He does a lot of that nowadays. He doesn’t bother to reply. 

7 days. Peter doesn’t speak to Elias all day.

4 days. Elias begins to gather his belongings strewn about the castle.

2 days. Elias receives a letter from Rosie, describing how much she’s anticipating his return, and the preparations being made for his arrival.

Elias wakes up to an empty bed. He turns, and Peter is sitting at a chair by the bedside, gazing out the window into the foggy shoals below. 

“Peter,” Elias murmurs, and Peter immediately turns to look at him. His eyes are achingly sad. Elias is reminded of this time a year ago, when he’d been snared by the Lonely because he’d woken up alone in bed. This time, it looks like Peter might be the one to fall into the Lonely.

Has it really been a full year? The ring rests heavy on Elias’ finger, and he can see the tungsten band on Peter’s, glinting in the dim light.

Elias glances back up at Peter, who is still staring at him with fathoms deep eyes. “Peter.”

“Elias,” Peter replies, and his voice is quiet but unflinching.

Elias finds himself at a loss for words. He doesn’t need to say it. They both know it. They stare at each other, the silence deafening. Elias opens his mouth and closes it before he can bring any words to his lips.

“Come on,” Peter says finally, “Breakfast.”

So that’s how it’s going to be. Elias sits up and watches Peter leave the bedchambers, closing the door with a certain finality. He’s up and dressed in a few minutes, taking out the only outfit that has not been packed away. He stares at himself in the mirror, taking in this body he calls his own. He wonders if Peter will still be alive when Elias eventually dies and he moves on to a new body. He wonders if Peter will still love him.

If they will even have love anymore.

Elias sighs. His reflection blinks back at him with somber eyes. He turns away from it, unable to bear the sight of it. 

Peter is at the table with a pile of eggs and a few slices of bread. He doesn’t say anything when Elias walks in, only gestures to the seat next to him, where eggs and toast and ham is on his plate. Elias sits.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Elias asks after a few minutes where the only sound is their eating.

“Are you going to change your mind?” Peter replies, raising his eyebrow.

Elias looks back down at his food. He takes a bite. The toast feels like paper in his mouth.

“Can we just…” Elias starts, and forces himself to pick up the sentence when it starts to drown in the castle’s fog, “Let’s pretend, for today. That it’s just like any other day.”

Peter looks at Elias with something that could be deemed heartbreak, if one were so inclined. He swallows and doesn’t make eye contact with Elias.

“Okay.”

 They go riding, but they don’t saddle two horses. Instead, they squeeze onto one, with Peter’s back at Elias’ chest. Peter closes in on Elias at all sides, one arm around his waist so he doesn’t fall and one hand on the reins. He can smell Peter, the smell of ocean salt and cologne and it makes Elias ache, to know that he only has so much time left. He could count the hours before they leave, if he wanted to.

They ride out to the cliffs, the huge masses of stone the same color as Peter’s eyes. Elias’ throat hurts when he inhales the frigid air. 

For a long time, they just stare out and watch the sea together, hand in hand. Elias huddles close to Peter for warmth, though his body temperature is too low to really offer anything meaningful. Still, he tucks himself into Peter’s side. Neither of them speak. Words are too heavy. 

“We should go back,” Peter says after more than an hour.

“Right.”

Elias desperately wants to summon small talk. To reignite the easy banter they used to share, to bicker and rile each other up until they’re spitting with anger. Even that would be better than the silence that weighs like a thousand bricks on Elias’ shoulders.

They lunch on the balcony in the east wing. A bird chirps.

“Do you want,” Peter says, and then stops. They sit in Peter’s office once more, a chess board between them and a game at a stalemate. Elias glances up at Peter.

“Do I want?” He asks, and hopes Peter will not again ask him to come with him.

Peter swallows and looks down at the chessboard. “Do you want to play together? A duet, I mean. One more.”

Elias feels the drive of a knife up through his ribs and into the left atrium of his heart, right where it will bleed and bleed until he has nothing left to give. Peter meets his eye and it takes his breath away. Peter doesn’t even try to hide his sadness.

Elias nods, and they make their way to the ballroom. He takes the beautiful violin from itsit’s case and rosins it while Peter rests his fingers on the keys of the piano. 

When Elias lifts the violin onto his shoulder, his hands shake and tremble. He looks out the window and sees fog rolling in, thick and blinding. He rests the bow to the strings and a sharp, discordant sound echoes out. His hands shake harder.

He can’t do it. Not a single song rests in his mind, not even a set of notes he could improvise. He stands, trembling like a leaf in the winter winds and cannot play a song.

“Okay,” Peter murmurs, and the violin is being taken out of his hands before he can say anything. Elias just stares out the window at the fog. Peter gathers him in his arms, takes one hand in his one and wraps the other around his waist.

“You-”

“Shh,” Peter whispers. He’s rocking back and forth and oh, they’re dancing. This, at least, Elias knows. He finds his feet and wraps his free hand around Peter’s shoulder. 

For a few minutes, they just rock back and forth in the gaping silence of the ballroom. Elias lets Peter take the lead. 

Peter begins to hum, a low rasping thing that doesn’t quite permeate the din of the fog but comes close. Elias steps closer, and they’re hardly even dancing, just swaying and stepping side to side.

“I love you,” Peter murmurs against the crown of Elias’ head.

Elias swallows. “I know,” he says, and begs Peter not to say anymore. 

More silence. When Elias exhales, it is shaky. He presses his face into Peter’s chest and breathes. “I’m sorry,” he says, and the words come out too wet and raw by far.

Peter stills, for just a split second. Elias feels him press a kiss into his head. He asks one last time, and though it hurts, Elias supposes he can’t blame him for one last try.

“Come with me.”

Elias cannot answer. He simply shakes his head. Peter doesn’t say anything more. Neither of them say anything more, dancing until the light leaves the halls and they slide into bed. They press themselves together tightly, like if they memorize every inch of how each other feels, it will be okay.

The Tundra is exactly as Elias remembers, though it has been a while since he stepped foot on it. Tadeas regards him with an indecipherable expression, try as Elias might to understand it. 

Peter, however, does not spend most of the time sailing in the Lonely, as he did the last times Elias has been aboard. He isn’t always at Elias’ side, but he is often close. 

They’re only a few days out from the kingdom of the Eye when Elias finds Peter leaning against the railings of the starboard side of the ship. The wind whips his white hair and his hands are red against the cold. For Elias’ part, he’s bundled up as best he can to protect from the cold. It’s not doing much.

“Peter,” Elias says as he approaches. Peter’s hands twitch but he doesn’t move away. Elias comes close, shoulders brushing. 

“We dock the day after tomorrow,” Peter says. Elias nods. He looks down at the frigid steel railing, which burns to the touch. Peter grips it like it’s all that tethers him to the world.

“It was here, wasn’t it?” Elias asks.

Peter grunts. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He does, Elias is sure of it. Still, he says it. “You confessed to me.”

Peter drops his head. “Yes, it was here.”

Silence, but for the crashing waves. When Elias leans closer, pressing their arms together, Peter doesn’t move to reciprocate. Nor does he pull away.

“It feels so long ago,” Elias says. The wind catches his words and carries them away to be lost at sea. 

“It was only a year and a half ago.”

It’s true. Elias doesn’t point out the obvious. The sea beats against the prow of the ship as they sail onwards, pushing relentlessly towards the end destination. Elias can feel the power of the Eye growing, watching greedily. Waiting.

“You know,” Peter says mildly, and then stops. A full minute passes where Peter doesn’t say anything.

“What?” Elias wonders, because he needs to know.

Peter sighs, and still it takes a few moments for him to reply. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”

The force of the words hits Elias hard enough that he has to close his eyes to weather it. His hands tremble, and so he clasps them tight. Already, he can hear the words repeating, circling like a cat come to lay down in his mind. He exhales, and that too is lost to the wind.

He doesn’t apologize. Peter doesn’t move. They stand there as the minutes pass. The crew moves around silently and does not interfere. Elias feels the weight of it all sitting right on his sternum. 

“You might thank me,” Elias suggests, “years from now.”

“Why?” Peter asks, and his voice carries a sharp edge to it.

“You’ll end up feeding the Lonely for years, with this-”

“Don’t.” 

Peter tilts his head towards the sky, where the clouds are beginning to thin. Elias watches him.

“I’m sorry,” Elias finds himself saying.

Peter shakes his head. Then he laughs, short and humorless. “I never understood the point of love. It’s all so…complicated. Messy. Whatever it was, it was no business of the Lonely. My mother and father certainly never loved each other. My uncle was a right bastard to his wife right up until she died. I thought, when our marriage was in the process of being arranged, that I would tolerate it. For a king I was sworn to, and a duty I had to fulfill, and all the rest of it. I never…I didn’t know this would happen.”

“Me either,” Elias replies.

Peter shakes his head. “If I could have seen the future…”

“Would you have changed it?” Elias asks.

Peter pauses. The ocean beats mercilessly on. “I don’t know. I can’t change it now, though, can I? And it’s not as if I ever had a choice in the matter.”

“No, I suppose neither of us did.”

“You have a choice now,” Peter points out.

“Don’t, Peter,” Elias says - nearly pleads. “I made my choice. I made it more than a century before you were even born.”

Again, Peter shakes his head. His fingers curl tight around the rail, whiteness rising to his knuckles under the red from the cold. “Right. I suppose I’m not the first person you’ve had to sacrifice for the sake of your king,” and the word comes out between his teeth.

“No, you’re not,” Elias concedes. He rolls the next words over his tongue and under his gums, debating whether to say it. He supposes he owes it to Peter. “It doesn’t make it any easier.”

The sound Peter makes is lost to the wind. Pained, Elias thinks. The Eye looms, ever curious as they grow closer to its shores.

“Please,” Peter whispers, and Elias only presses himself closer to Peter’s side. They say nothing more.

By the time the shores of the Eye come into view, Elias is ready. He stands straight and tall, proud and unflinching. Peter is nowhere to be seen, but Elias can’t blame him for that. He owes Elias nothing. 

He takes a moment to gauge the presence of the Eye. His thoughts are his own, at least for now. As they grow closer to the Panopticon, he will need to school his thoughts more diligently. His actions are being watched carefully, but at least his thoughts are his own.

The ship rattles into the docks with a groan and a plank is lowered as a walkway. Crew members begin to unload chests of Elias’ things down to Rosie, who waits patiently a short distance away.

Peter finally approaches. Elias does not change his stance.

“It’s been a pleasure,” Elias says, all pomp and formality now. A muscle twitches in Peter’s jaw.

“Of course,” Peter replies stiffly.

“I expect we haven’t seen the last of each other, dear husband,” Elias remarks, and stares into Peter’s eyes, hoping he will hear what Elias can’t afford to say now that he is so close to the Eye.

Peter’s mouth twists in something like pain. “Of course.”

Elias smiles and raises up on his toes, pressing a parting kiss to Peter's cheek. “Goodbye, Peter.”

Peter’s eyes look achingly sad. “Goodbye, Elias.”

Elias does not look back as he descends the walkway. He can feel the Eye heavily, curious and watchful. He can feel his powers coming in like high tide, washing over him. Elias does not hesitate as he makes the final step off the Tundra. He doesn’t look back. 

“Sir,” Rosie says with a bow, “It’s a pleasure to have you back.”

“It’s a pleasure to be back, Rosie.”

“Your absence has been felt deeply,” she says, and Elias Knows it is just an empty platitude. But these are the games he loves.

“I’m glad to hear it, though I’m sure you’ve carried on admirably. Come along, I’d like to hear your updates. I’ve been getting your correspondence but it’s just not the same in person.”

“Of course, sir,” Rosie says as he leads the way to the carriage, “I’ve gathered some documents I thought might be of interest to you on our journey over.”

“Thank you,” Elias says. He slides into the carriage and wastes no time looking over some intelligence reports on some activity from the Stranger, rumours about the coming Unknowing. Rosie fills in the gaps, and Elias settles into it like a warm bath. This is what he knows.

Elias does not think about the absence of Peter at his side. He does not miss him. It does no good to miss him. 

The Eye is waiting for them when they arrive at the Panopticon. Rosie’s carriage will continue on towards the Institute, and he’ll be getting another to go back to his manor when his meeting with the Eye is done.

The halls are unchanged. Elias stands tall and proud. He does not think about wandering these halls with Peter. He passes that storage closet without even a passing thought to it. He walks quickly but smoothly down to the throne room. 

There is no herald to announce Elias’ presence. The Eye knows. 

“Good afternoon,” Elias says, bowing low at the waist.

“Welcome back, Jonah.”

“It is good to be back, Your Grace.”

“I hope your stay was not unpleasant.”

Elias does not think about his stay in any more than a passing glance. “It was suitable, though I am happy to return to my work here.”

The Eye hums, powerful and All-Knowing. “You did not consider staying, I hope?”

“No more than a child might consider a fourth cookie, Your Majesty,” Elias replies with a smooth grin. 

The Eye doesn’t laugh, but Elias Knows it is amused. “I had wondered. I was promised that it would be quite a spectacle to see.”

Elias does not wonder what that is supposed to mean. That question draws far too close to insolence for him to utter it aloud. “I hope it pleased you.”

“It certainly did. But I am most pleased to have my right hand back. There is work to be done, I’m sure.”

Elias nods. “There is word of a ritual from a Stranger. And the Dark is only getting more and more blatant about their efforts. Gertrude seems to have averted the crisis of Sannikov land well enough.”

The Eye hums. “Gertrude seems to be growing bolder, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Elias admits, “I don’t know that I like the look of it. I’ve been keeping an eye out for someone I believe could be a suitable replacement, when the time is right.”

“Good. Don’t let her get out of control.”

“Of course not.”

“You’re dismissed,” the Eye declares, and Elias bows once more, “I’m glad to See your allegiance still holds true.”

“Of course,” Elias says and does not think about the heavy weight on his sternum. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.

Elias leaves and takes the carriage to his manor. He can feel the overwhelming force of the Eye begin to fade ever so slightly as he makes his way home. His thoughts begin to become his own once more, though it Watches as always.

He takes the familiar path up to his office first. He wants to see it, to refamiliarize himself with it all. If he wants to see a familiar set of bones, well. 

There’s a woman sitting at his desk. Dark skinned with long braids that trail down her back. She sits in his chair like she owns the place. Elias bristles, though he keeps his external reaction calm. He knows how to play these games, even if he doesn’t know the opponent. 

“Who are you?” He asks.

“So rude,” she says, and her voice is indescribable. Like the scuttling of spiders across a castle wall.

“You’re in my office,” Elias points out.

She smiles, and it’s just smug enough to put Elias on his guard. She knows something, he’s sure of it.

“Your king is remarkably easy to manipulate, you know,” she says, inspecting her manicured nails. She picks up a piece of parchment off his desk and glances at it.

“I don’t take your meaning.”

She looks back at him and smiles, almost wolfish. “Your king loves a spectacle. It’s very easy to convince him to do something I want him to do, as long as I make it out to be some grand entertainment for him.”

Elias narrows his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” she says, her smile going placid but no less dangerous, “you performed admirably. I knew you would never give up the Eye, of course. I hadn’t predicted the level of devotion the Lukas prince would exert, but people do surprise you, even when you’re me.”

Dread builds in Elias’ chest and he smothers. If she’s even half of what he thinks she is, she’ll gorge on this particular flavor of fear until he’s got nothing left to give. Elias is frustrated to find only a mess of cobwebs when he reaches out to Know her, but that in itself is enough of a giveaway.

“A servant of the Web?”

“Her new right hand, actually,” the woman says, “Angela had long passed retirement age.”

Interesting. Elias has worked with Angela for a long time. What does this newcomer have in store? “And you’re here because…?”

“Well, I had to meet you, didn’t I? I put all that trouble in to arrange a marriage for you. My queen has a lot in store for the coming years, and you’ll be a vital part of it.”

Elias curbs his apprehension. “And if I don’t want to be a part of it?”

“Trust me,” she says, “This is in both our best interests. It was about time the Eye and the Web joined forces.”

“I was under the impression that you considered the Eye easy to manipulate.”

“I do. You’re a different matter.”

“So what,” Elias says, drawing closer, “My marriage to Prince Lukas was just a test?”

“Oh it was so much more than that,” she says, her teeth shining with her smile. 

Elias tires of this already. He resists the urge to sigh. “I’d appreciate you getting to the point.”

“Testy. I brought a gift for you, you know.”

Elias raises his chin. “A gift?”

“Well, it’s not my gift. I’m just the messenger. I took it upon myself to deliver it to you personally. Two birds, and the like.”

“Right. Where is this gift?”

The woman reaches under the desk and procures a box. The design on it is one of swirls and fractals and looping figures that draw you in, making it difficult to look away. Elias wrenches his gaze away and looks into the woman’s eyes. She’s smiling, still.

“Well, I’ll be off. Lovely to meet you, Mr. Bouchard. I’ll be in touch.”

“Wait,” Elias says as she brushes past him, “You didn’t tell me your name.”

She tilts her head, as if considering. She opens the door and says over her shoulder, “Call me Annabelle Cane.”

With that, she’s gone.

Elias lets out a quiet breath. He turns back to the box. A part of him is afraid to open it. It could be anything.

He’s afraid until he sees the note tucked under a ribbon wrapped around a box. Inscribed on the note is a simple P.L. 

After that, Elias can’t open the box fast enough. He pulls the ribbon off and opens the box, not daring to wonder what’s inside. He Knows the Eye can see his desperation, but he doesn’t stop.

It’s a violin.

It’s not a simple violin. It’s Marked. By the Spiral, if Elias isn’t mistaken. Laced with power and oh.

This is…

Elias falls into his chair. He brings a trembling hand up to cover his mouth. He reaches for the note and turns it over. On it reads two simple sentences.

One last gift. Goodbye.

Peter remembered, then. He remembered the conversation with Mikaele so long ago. He had remembered and more than that, he’d paid the price. Whatever it was. Elias doesn’t want to know.

After a few minutes of simply staring at the violin, Elias picks it up. He grabs the bow and plays a single note. It’s gorgeous. His throat goes dry with the beauty of it. He Knows that if he spent too long playing it, he would go mad from the exquisite sound of it all. He’s still tempted, if only to relive the noise. 

Elias places it next to Barnabas’ skull. He looks at them both. A single tear beads in the corner of his eye and he swipes it away. As if the Eye can’t see it.

Elias inhales. He exhales. He stands up straight and brushes the wetness out of his eyes one last time. 

There’s work to be done.