Chapter Text
After his human self, and his friends, the first being reborn into the new-old universe was the former Lord Sunday. Art’s friends were of in a corner of the Elysium sleeping. One might not “need” to sleep in The House, but being eaten by Nothing and then being recreated from the same Nothing after having fought a war against demigods, would make anyone exhausted. Without a word Sunday approached Art who was sitting on a chair at a table that he had created from the cage that had held the final part (aside from the Old One) of the former Architect.
“Ahem,” Sunday coughed into his fist.
“Yes?” Art said as he looked at Sunday over his cool sunglasses. (He might be the creator of the remade universe, but he was still created from a child, and the sunglasses reminded him of the spark of humanity and creativity that his missing part had created in him.)
“I was wondering,” Sunday started hesitantly., “why, uh, why exactly I’m still here? Why did you return me from Nothing as well?”
“Would you rather I didn’t?” Asked art, stirring his tea slowly.
“Uhm, no, I don’t believe so.” the former ruler of Elysium stuttered out. “I just thought that after the other trustees and I had broken your, or rather my mother’s Will, you wouldn’t take the time to restore traitors to the House”.
“I recognize that you trustees did what you were always meant to do, keep the house running and protecting the status quo of the secondary realms. But the Will’s influence magnified all of your worst traits so that no matter what the will of the Architect would be done. It was a genius move by your mother, really. No matter what happened her ultimate desire would win if you all followed orders, or not.” Art said glancing at Sunday over his sunglasses. “Now that the House is being restored, I will need new Trustees in order to keep the house running. For although I have no desire to abdicate like your mother, I recognize the appeal of having others assist me.”
“Would you really restore me to my former post?” Sunday asked incredulously.
“If I did ask you cousin, what would your answer be?” Art asked as he leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Would you be my second in command?”
Sunday was quiet for several moments. The leader of the famous Morrow Days has a lot to consider. Returning to power as Lord Sunday again would mean that he would be able to tend his beloved garden again. But it also meant that he would be sucked back into the politics of the House, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide behind his pride now that his mother could no longer influence him. After several minutes of thought Sunday gave Art his answer, “I will help you in all that is within my abilities Art, but I will not serve as Lord Sunday again. I was trusted with authority once and I couldn’t handle it. I would like to stay in the Garden though. I have tended these plants since almost time immemorial. Although now I no longer wish to do so as Lord Sunday, Son of the Architect and the Old One, I would rather tend to them simply as Phineas. Besides,” the former Morrow Day said looking over at Art’s friends with a small and sly smile, “I think we both know that there is someone who is better suited to your style of house management.”
“Perhaps you’re right Phineas,” Art said looking over at Suzy as she turned over in her sleep, her wings smacking Fred in the face, yet they somehow didn’t wake the Door Keeper. A small smile echoing the one on Phineas’ face strayed to creep over Art’s features. He stood as he began to softly glow with a greenish-yellow light, his eyes echoing the stars one could see in the universe of the secondary realms. “Then by the powers of the House and the Seven Keys of my Kingdom, I rename and remake you Phineas Dirtdigger, the official gardener to the New Architect, you are the one who is three; the Sower, the Grower, and the Reaper. Master of the Incomparable Gardens, capital the New House, and servant and advisor to the New Sunday at a time when one is appointed. “ As Art finished speaking and sat down again, the former Sunday started to grow and change. He grew to almost his old height, his black hair turning long and golden like wheat, his eyes lighting to reflect the colour of a calm lake in the summer. The last thing to change were his clothes. The Architect’s will made him dressed smartly in black leather boots that shone under the light of the Garden, neat white trousers with a gold stripe running down the outside of each leg, a mustard yellow shirt underneath a dirt brown waist coat that accentuated his impressive figure, black leather gloves that matched his boots, and a green great coat the colour of moss, with the pattern of ivy embossed on it. The last part of his transformation was a simple silver circlet on his head, shaped like laurel branches.
Phineas lifted his arms up and inspected his new clothes. “A little much for a Gardner, but I do think it fits me. Thank you…cousin? I guess that’s the best way to address you. I know you won’t let anyone call you The Architect, and I don’t feel like I was close enough to you before to call you ‘Art’.” Phineas said with a slight bow. Art replied with only a shrug. “Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions? There are two things I’m still not sure about.”
“Yes?” Art asked, raising an eyebrow to his new gardener.
“First off, what of my brothers? The Mariner and I got along well enough, and for all of the Piper’s faults he still was family.” Phineas asked his head dipped slightly.
“I’m sorry, there are somethings even I cannot do. Between his own magic and that of your parents, I am unable to undo the fate of his own choosing.” Art sounded legitimately sad at this point, especially now that he knew the true expense that the Mariner paid for him. “As for the Piper, he was gone long before he fought me. What we saw her during the battle, and for the past several hundred years was merely a memory, an echo.”
“So I truly am alone know” Phineas said morosely. Now that he was free of the Pride the Will had given him, he felt things he hadn’t felt in aeons.
“Do not cry, Phineas. For although they are gone, your new family is still here.” Art said as he placed a hand on Phineas’ shoulder. Phineas looked up at him, a small smile playing across his face because he fully expected Art’s words to carry the commanding power of an Architect, but they instead carried the power of a friend, maybe Arthur didn’t take all of The Architect’s humanity with him. “You has another question?” Art asked quietly.
“Yes,” Phineas said, picking his head up, “Your human half, does he know he is no longer mortal?” They both looked over at Arthur where he was sleeping leaning against Leaf, her head on his shoulder, and his head on top of hers.
“For now, no. But I am sure with time he will suspect. But right now, he is human, and that is what’s most important.” Art said with smile as he and Phineas sat down at the table to finish the tea that Art had made.