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Damen feels like he’s going to hurl. The whooshing sounds, the falling feeling, the vertigo, they’re all working in concert to make him believe that this is absolutely the worst feeling he has ever felt, and he’s already died, damnit.
He barely remembers dying. He was lying in bed with Laurent, his husband of nearly fifty six years—who still looked as beautiful as the day Damen had realized he loved him, and he knew it was coming. Laurent looked just as tired as he’d felt, and Damen had pulled him close with the last strength he’d had. He’d nearly felt the moment it happened, when he’d passed from one realm to the next, and all he’d been able to think was that he hoped he’d still be with Laurent.
“I think I’m going to puke,” were the first words he heard out of his husband’s mouth, echoing his own sentiments. Damen whirled around to look at him, struck anew by his otherworldly beauty.
Laurent looked much like he had at nearly thirty. His hair was skimming the middle of his back, the lines on his face were laugh lines and they were considerably less deep than the last Damen remembered of them. His eyes were bright, his skin vibrant, his hair the darker honey gold it had been when he was young and not the pure lily white it had been when they’d last looked at each other.
“Is this the afterlife? Is this what they say when they talk about the heavens?” were the next words out of Laurent’s mouth, and he was looking at Damen almost…hungrily.
Damen took stock of his own body and noticed that yes, he was back in the same physical condition he’d been in at about thirty-five. His skin was also tight and barely lined, and he could name the light scars on his arms and legs as those coming from sparring with Nikandros and occasionally Laurent himself.
Laurent was on him then. Fingers were tracing up the hard planes of his chest, skimming over his collarbones, and falling down the bulges of his biceps with wonder.
“I’d almost forgotten these,” Laurent quipped playfully.
“I’ve never forgotten this,” Damen replied, touching Laurent’s face.
“So it’s over, then. We’re gone,” Laurent finally said after a few moments.
“Yes, I think so. But…where are we now?”
“If my calculations are correct, and they always are,” came a voice from over Damen’s shoulder, “we are now in Los Angeles, California. The better question is when.”
They both turned to face a young woman, clad in the most garish garb Damen had ever seen. Her top was black and ripped to shreds, as if she’d been clawed by a lion. Her trousers weren’t much better, holes at the knees from what looked like years of wear and tear. Maybe they were hand-me-downs? Her hair was a most unnatural shade of red, like ripe apples, that nearly glowed in the dim light of the room.
“Look, I’m going to give you, like, the simplified version? You’ve done wonders of good in your life, so you’re being rewarded.” She flipped her short cropped hair from her face. “The powers that be have given you ever-lasting happiness, yada yada.”
“I’m sorry…what?” Laurent asked, inarticulate as Damen had ever heard him.
She sighed as if she was being greatly put-upon by their stupidity, which Laurent inevitably noticed, because he huffed in return. Damen’s husband didn’t like not being the most knowledgeable one in a room, and that had never changed.
“You have changed history for the better. Your actions made an impact on the world that set in motion a chain of events that led to good. You are being given the chance to enjoy that world, forevermore, if you want it. All people who fit the criteria do.”
“Are you a mage of some kind?” Damen asked delicately.
“Seriously most people just take the deal and get on with their second life,” she replied. “Also, the word ‘witch’ doesn’t have nearly the connotations it used to, so you’re fine with using that term for me if you want.”
“Just…just wait a moment,” Laurent implored them, holding up a hand. His fingers were strong and fine and not the withered, nearly unusable things they’d been closer to his passing. Damen was mesmerized all over again. “Are you saying we’ve been…reborn?”
“Reborn, reincarnated, given a second chance, whatever you wanna call it,” she quipped.
“Because we made a difference in history?” he prodded.
“Because you significantly changed history in the direction of good,” she clarified. “This is the highest honor that can be bestowed by the boss, and only those who are truly worthy get a chance at it. You were in a timeline that was destined for disaster, a massive war and subsequent dictatorship by an absolute shitstain of a man, if my history knowledge serves me correctly. And you two took the recipe of fate and turned it on its head. Are you really as in love as the books say?”
“Yes,” Damen answered, before Laurent could say anything or before either of them could really put together what she was actually saying.
“Then that’s what did it. Your love changed the world. Congrats, my dudes.” She smiled witheringly at them.
“And we get to, what, live out our lives again now? In this…Los Angeles?” Laurent pronounced it carefully.
“You get to live forever. If you accept. No growing old, no hardship—your finances are in order, that’s part of the deal, so you can, like, live however you want. Probably not like Kings, though, if you wanna stay under the radar. People nowadays have wild fantasies about immortals like Keanu Reeves and such, but like, you probably wanna keep your everlasting youth on the DL if you don’t want Oprah calling or something.”
Damen hoped Laurent understood at least some of that, because he was baffled. He was also stuck on the forever part.
“We’re immortal.” Laurent said.
“Yes.”
“We will live problem-free for the rest of eternity, looking like we do now, without any consequences.”
“Yes. Well…you also probably want to steer clear of going back to your home country. For like, at least a couple hundred more years. No one in America or Canada or like, Norway knows your story but…you’re legends in modern New Artes. The people tell stories about you to their children. Lovers use lines from your letters to woo each other. It’s sweet actually. But like, there’s a giant portrait of the two of you in the Palace at Marlas, and people might think ghosts are among us if you walk through there on the tour or something.”
“The one painted on our wedding day,” Damen mused.
“Yep, that’s the one. So like, can you guys make a decision so I can get on to helping other people? They’re dying every day in every time period, you know.”
Damen turned back to Laurent and put his hands on his shoulders. “What do you think?” he asked, because Laurent was always the better planner and decision maker. He could see all angles. Even now Damen could see his mind working over all the minute details rapidly.
“I think we should take it. It sounds like bliss,” he finally said, gazing up at Damen and looking for all the world like he’d looked the first time they’d said I love you out loud.
“Yeah? You want to live forever in a strange world with no friends and no one but me to keep you company?”
“Oh! That’s the other thing. There is someone here already that you might know. I’m supposed to take you straight to him. He’s here at the club right now, but he has no idea about you two. I hope he’s as amenable as the boss said he’d be. I’ve never met him, didn’t work on his case.”
“Someone we know? Who took this deal as well?” Damen asked.
“Yeah, he’s a looker, too. Had to pull some strings for his appearance though, on his request. He wanted…well, I guess you’ll see. Usually we put you in the body that represents your prime. His we had to basically conjure out of thin air. But we’re good,” she finished smugly.
“Fine. Let’s do it,” Damen said, a smile growing on his face.
“Yeah. We’ll take it,” Laurent declared.
“Wonderful! I love a happy beginning!” The girl hopped off the box she’d been perched on for the duration of their conversation, and turned to a door neither one of them had noticed before. As soon as it opened, they were hit with a wave of sound that nearly knocked Damen off his feet. He could feel it in his bones like the pounding of a thousand hooves. It was heavy and throbbing, surrounding them completely.
As they walked, Damen took in the flashing of color along the walls, as if the paint were shifting every few seconds to a different hue. As they walked down a hallway, one side opened up like a balcony to reveal a writhing mass of bodies moving to the beat of what must have been music, though it was nothing like any music Damen had ever heard. He thought it might be right at home in Vere, were restraint was most certainly not prized, and he chuckled to himself. He was starting to get used to it.
“He’s just through here, in VIP. He took his paycheck and ran with it, if you know what I mean. The guy loves opulence but from what I hear he’s a sweetheart, so.” She continued through another hallway, out into a makeshift room that was surrounded on all sides by various booths with tables, groups of people shoved into them nearly on top of each other despite the fact there was plenty of space to be had. Yes, this definitely reminded him of Vere, but not in a bad way, he was coming to realize.
“He’s just over there!” She shouted above the din. “Blue shirt, white pants, brown hair. Enjoy your life!” And with that she was off, disappearing through the crowd and the music.
Damen craned his neck for someone who fit her description, and it turned out ‘white pants’ was the best giveaway. He spotted the man at a far booth, seated with only one other person. Their apparent acquaintance looked relaxed with the other man’s arm around him. They would talk into each other’s ear every few seconds, apparently trying to hold a conversation above the noise. From this distance he looked about twenty, brown tousled hair and light eyes.
As they walked closer, Damen felt the niggling in the back of his mind of recognition, but he couldn’t entirely place the man in his memory. When they were about ten feet away, their acquaintance looked their direction, and froze.
His face paled in what looked like horror and, Damen noticed with some confusion, guilt. Laurent had stepped up to the table, and Damen watched from beside him as his face slowly, slowly, grew into a relieved and exuberant smile.
The man looked for a moment more, before nearly scrambling over the table towards Laurent, landing in his outstretched arms and burying his face in Laurent’s neck. They hugged each other so tightly that Damen was worried for their respiration.
The man lifted his face from Laurent’s neck to look up at Damen with wide eyes, and it hit him. Those same slightly scared, unsure eyes, innocent despite his experience, that Damen remembered in a hallway in the dead of night. Don’t tell him I came.
“How? Am I dreaming?” Nicaise breathed into Laurent’s hair, still looking at Damen.
“No, you’re not dreaming. We’re here. We’re here now,” Laurent was saying, soothing in the shared space between them, still hugging Nicaise tightly like if he let go Nicaise would disappear.
Nicaise pulled back slightly then, looking between the two of them with a hurt expression. “Did he…did he get you too?” He looked on the verge of tears.
“No, no Nicaise, he didn’t,” Laurent said, hands still on Nicaise’s shoulders, lingering in the touch, the proof that he was there.
“But…you’re dead, right? That’s how you’re here? I ended up here when I died.”
“Yes, but you were given the deal, right?” Damen said. Nicaise nodded.
Because you significantly changed history in the direction of good the girl had said. This is the highest honor that can be bestowed by the boss, and only those who are truly worthy get a chance at it.
“We’re here, but not because he got us,” Damen said, coming to place a hand on Nicaise’s shoulder next to Laurent’s. “We lived. We won. We ruled a combined empire in peace and prosperity, for over fifty years,” he said, leaning in and moving his hand up to cup Nicaise’s face. “Because of you. Because of your bravery, the whole country survived to live in peace.”
Laurent had remained silent, and Nicaise looked to him for clarification. He simply nodded.
“You are a hero, Nicaise. We made sure the record books reflected that,” Damen added.
At this, Nicaise buried his face in Laurent’s hair again, his shoulders shaking. Laurent just wrapped his arms around him again, hugging him close.
After a while, Nicaise pulled back again, completely out of Laurent’s arms for the first time. “Okay, so wait. This is really true?” he asked, almost accusatory, gesturing between the two of them. “The two of you?”
“Yes?” Damen said, uncertain.
“He told me, right before he sent me to the executioner. He told me you were Damianos the prince-killer, and he was going to watch—watch Laurent destroy himself over it. That he was going to enjoy it. That Laurent had already fallen for you before you left for the border, it was going to ruin him when he found out.”
“I think we can discern who the more intellectually capable one is between him and me, can’t we?” Laurent said with a small smile.
“You knew?” Nicaise asked, looking surprised.
“Come on. It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Laurent replied, his smile growing.
“Well, I can’t say I understand it but…” He turned to Damen. “I’m willing to accept your presence for eternity if he does.”
“I sure hope he does. He vowed it a long time ago,” Damen said, his smile growing as well when he looked back to Laurent.
“Ugh, okay, gross, stop there with the mushy stuff,” Nicaise whined.
“So. Forever?” Laurent asked the two of them.
“Yeah. Sounds like a plan,” Nicaise answered.
Damen just pulled them both close, content in the knowledge that Nicaise did not have a fork available at the moment.
For the next few months, Nicaise helped them acclimate to the modern world. He showed them how to set up credit cards—to look normal, he said, people didn’t use cash or coin nowadays—and how to use technology. Laurent, as expected, took to the iPhone immediately, and his favorite app was a game in which he used his thumbs on either side of the screen to line up virtual archery shots. Damen lost track of his record-breaking score quickly. Laurent had also been absolutely floored and near tears when Nicaise taught him how to put digital versions of books on his device. He now carried an entire library in his pocket at all times.
Damen, on the other hand, had become a museum hermit. He’d spend hours and hours, sometimes alone and sometimes with one or the both of them, just looking at the intervening history between the time he came from and the one he lived in now. Not much of it was very relevant, since it didn’t pertain to Akielos, Vere, or New Artes, but it was fascinating. There were priceless paintings that were younger than he was, but revered as nearly timeless. There were old weapons and new ones, exhibits of inventions over the course of time. Whatever city they visited, whether it was a metropolitan area or a small ghost town, Damen found some kind of museum to peruse. The other two let him be most of the time, content to keep their noses buried in their phones while he wandered.
They spent years upon years together, living in different cities and different countries around the world. When they’d finally decided to chance a trip to New Artes, it had been nearly a century.
Entering the palace at Marlas felt almost like coming home. It, too, was a museum now, the government converted to a democracy some decades back. There was still a sitting monarch in title only, a direct descendant of Nikandros. They’d written into the law that in the absence of heirs of their own, the Kings could cede inheritance to the family of the Kyros of Ios.
They saw the painting, stared at it for what seemed like an age. Damen looked at the portrait and back to Laurent in succession two or three times. He’d always thought the painting hadn’t done him justice, but it was after all impossible to encompass Laurent’s beauty in two dimensions.
Also on display, much to their amazement since they hadn’t known it had been saved, was the letter from Paschal’s brother, the one Nicaise had given his life in order to see it delivered into good hands. Nicaise spent a lot of time at that exhibit, running his fingers over the glass that encased it silently.
As they exited into the bustling streets thronging with people, Damen heard his name called. He immediately seized up in fear—the girl had told them to avoid this place, after all. But in the next second, Damen felt all the breath leave him as he turned and saw the source of the call.
Running at him, dodging people and androids alike on the sidewalk, was Nikandros. They collided with brute force, clutching each other tightly.
“My brother. I just knew I’d be seeing you again someday,” Damen whispered into his neck.