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It had been hard. Really hard. The switchover from Third Life to Empires definitely wasn't going to be easy, but Scott had underestimated how much a brand new start would impact him. And it wasn't the nightmares of Ren and Martyn hunting him down or the icy cold of the mountains within he now resided, no. What had made it hard was the thought of Jimmy.
When Skizz had bowed down his husband, all Scott had felt after was numbness and the bitter bite of revenge. He wasn't really dead, the sandy-blond respawned at home in his realm, simply unable to rejoin the server having lost all the lives he was granted. That hadn't mattered to the Stag King. In the moment, it had felt so real, so raw that his entire body still ached at the thought, eyes clenching shut with the sting of loss. And now he was back, in a new world, Jimmy too.
The two hadn't spoke since.
The reason, was Scott's fear. Back in the bunker with Scar, Jimmy's last breath had been used to scream the name of his husband with such power and virtue that Scott's ears still rang with the echo sometimes. But in the confusion of the fight, he mistook the anguish and despair for rage and anger. Scott arrived at one conclusion when he first joined Empires. Jimmy hated him. He hated him for being weak, for being unable to save him, to sacrifice himself instead. Scott should have been the one to die first, so Jimmy could keep living. That's what made sense in his mind.
All Scott ever did was for Jimmy, to keep him safe, keep him happy. He'd failed the ultimate test. So instead of reaching out to his husband, the teal-haired King locked himself away. Threw every ounce of strength, both mental and physical, that he had into the construction of his new Empire. Rivendell was beautiful, the labour of love he'd been nursing for months now. Rushing waterfalls of silver that cascaded down cliff-faces into shimmering plunge pools with water so clear one could see the sea grass that tickled the bottom from several feet away. Vines of glow berries clung to every overhang, bearing sweet fruit that emitted a warm iridescence when hit with the light of the setting sun. Every azalea bush, every candle, every wall had been placed with deep thought of overriding pride and aesthetic. Scott could spend all day just wandering the paths and letting the feathery greenery slip through his limp fingers.
It had all been done for the beauty, it had all been done for the distraction. The more he worked, the less he thought. The whole city was a welcome mental block to restrain the weeping reminders that his husband was out there somewhere. His husband was out there somewhere, waiting for an explanation as to why he'd failed. And so Scott, King of Rivendell, The Golden Stag, Monarch of the Mountain... Reduced himself to nothing more than a silhouette of self-centric resentment through his own misconceptions and doubt.
He did his best to fill his mind, trying to forget, attempting desperately to quell the thoughts of loathing that came at night. He'd convinced himself to forget Jimmy that when he thought of his past server, on face value, all he thought of was Scar and Grian, the shoddy alliance between the two. It worked for a while, Scott was able to carry on, the others assuming he was just really focusing on his kingdom before extending offers of allyship. To them he was simply tenacious and hard-working, ever persevering and able to do anything he set his mind to. Scott wished he could be what they thought of him. His loneliness had left him unknown, with not a single soul to confide his insecurities and worries too. It all manifested quietly into one thing. His own pure self-hatred.
Things were quiet for many months. He didn't have many visitors up in his mountain hideaway and he preferred it that way. Scott found himself amused by the company of his bees which he'd installed in a new greenhouse, the latest addition to his pride and joy. His delight was cut short by a wedding invitation. He had been cordially offered a reserved seat at the union between the Ocean and Mesa Empires. Lizzie and Joel were to be married.
Conflict and despondency immediately flared up in his mind. Scott had been meaning to reach out to a few more kingdoms, feeling himself ready to finally gather allies, seeing the tides of war behind the horizon. It was far off, but best to be prepared. But a wedding... Would he be able to handle such a thing given the memories it might stir up? Though it would seem rude to decline, and that would not leave him with any outlying friendships. And if course, the biggest factor: Jimmy would be there. And Scott knew deep down in his sorrow sodden heart he wasn't ready to face his husband and endure the disappointment that was sure to flood his face.
With all the regret and repressive foresight he could muster, the Stag King accepted the invitation.
It had started out all well. He rose on the day, a nice one, with the first tendrils of sunrise creeping up to bestow plentiful light upon Rivendell. His queasy thoughts settled and quenched as he donned the suit of cyan he reserved for formal occasions, and the flight over on his elytra was comforting. With the wind tousling his teal hair, Scott relaxed for the first time, letting his eyes flutter shut with a breathy sigh, the taste of salt-spray tinging the atmosphere delectably. He landed several feet from the church and the shaking began.
The nerves and fear gripped at him, an icy hand on his neck. No loosening of his tie would stop the choking, retching for space to think freely. He was going to get through this, he had to. If it was the last thing he was going to do, the Mountain King would survive this event, no matter the melancholy, no matter the bitterness. Scott's newfound confidence and spirit gave him the ability to walk up to the entrance, a stoic yet easy smile on his face, projecting that his only inner emotion was fineness.
And then he saw him and Scott's whole world fell apart.
He'd just rounded the corner, still clamoured by the shadow of the church when everything came to a halt. In the early morning sun, Jimmy was nothing short of radiant. His hair seemed almost golden, light not bouncing off, but seemingly infusing with the sandy locks. Pale skin seemed glowing and the rouge of his ever-present flush seemed so much more pronounced as he continued to stare. In that moment, Scott had never despised himself more. For having something so undeniably perfect and for letting himself lose it.
Jimmy was laughing at something Gem had said to him, the sound reverberating and awakening the murmur of Scott's heart, that despite his crude denial, would always beat for him, and him alone. His husband completed him, made him whole in a way nothing else could ever compare to. The sandy-haired man hadn't noticed the figure in the shadows, staring with such mournful heartbreak and wonderment at him, like he was the only thing in the world. To Scott, he was. The only importance in his life, the one thing he desired above all else... And the one thing he'd made sure he could never have again. This was his fault. And his alone.
It took Scott days to recover, he'd been so shaken and abruptly concerned by how not okay he was. He put himself to work again, building a stable for a pair of wild horses he'd found wandering, a rarity apparently, as Joel had been slaughtering a lot of the beasts. His relationships with the other Empires were steadily improving, something he was quite proud of. He found himself close to his neighbour, Katherine, and they'd become business partners in an escapade that had secured him a handsome payout. Things were looking up. But as ever, the possibility of normality didn't go well for him.
Scott had been putting off this project for some time, knowing the pain and dismal emotions it would entail. He'd worked himself to the bone on his village, and currently the only thing on his to-do list was to finish the contraption to have his bookshelves pop up in his enchanting area and for that, he needed slime. And the only place that had slime, was the Swamp. Jimmy's Empire.
He really couldn't deny his need for the resource any longer, Scott would have to make the journey over to take some. Obviously he harvested some of his kingdom's export, wool, to leave as a trade. He wasn't a thief. It would be his first proper interaction with his husband since he'd died on their old server. His husband, who must hate him for outliving him and not doing more to prevent his death. His husband who he cradled in his arms as the blood seeped onto the sand in a darkened stain. His husband who still had a grave on Third Life with a single flower placed by the headstone.
Whatever hardships Scott had faced in the past would be nothing compared to this.
He would stand and fight Ren a thousand times before he willingly did such a task. But Ren was back on the newest iteration of Hermitcraft with Grian and Scar and all the others. And he really needed that slime. So Scott did what he'd been avoiding for months on end now. He went to visit his husband.
His luck prevailed for the first time, and Jimmy wasn't there, off visiting a friend most likely. It made the ordeal so much easier, he could collect what he needed and leave a chest with his payment. The Stag King gathered the green blocks, placing them in his shulker for an easy return flight. After a deep breath and some intentions infused with doubt and concern, he entered Jimmy's house to leave the wool in exchange.
Everything felt overwhelming familiar the minute he stepped in, hit with the undeniable, unmissable scent of him. It was breathtaking in a sickly sweet way. It made him want to weep, retch and die all at once. The very air tasted like heartbreak and longing, and noticing a pufferfish in an item-frame (a referral to something in their old home), Scott considered for the first time that Jimmy might miss him. The notion was ridiculous and was quickly quieted. That was impossible. Scott had failed Jimmy, why would he be missed? He didn't warrant a second thought from his husband, didn't deserve even a glance. That's what he'd told himself in the months of manically empty convincing. It had to be true. He was not missed.
It was best to have this done quickly, and so a chest was placed and filled in the span of a few minutes. But something was missing. Scott's brain irked at him, he'd forgotten something, something was wrong. He hated the way his feet subconsciously led him outside a bit away to a patch of flowers, and wanted to scream as his arm reached down to grab one. His breath hitched in his throat. Red poppies. The first time Scott entered 3rd Life, Jimmy had given him a single red poppy. It had grown to be a symbol of hope, of their commitment. And they were blooming outside his house. Was it a sign? Or a warning?
Scott still felt disconnected as he went back inside, placing the flower he'd picked into the chest as well, a solitary tear slipping down his face and landing delicately on the petal. He began to sob more, streaks upon streaks of salty water joining the others in simple solidarity. He ached. He utterly ached. His heart was scattered in his old life and even now, sure that he was hated and remembered with disrespect, he wanted his husband to hold him. He wanted to feel loved, he yearned and yearned and cried and cried and still nothing. Nobody came.
Still, there was solace in the act, and he felt a little calmer with the placing of the flower. He felt the need to justify his actions, he'd spent so long locked up believing he was uncared for that he himself tried not to care for Jimmy in a cold-hearted revenge. It never worked, he wasn't strong enough to simply give up. Giving up took more courage than people might think. He wanted to keep believing.
Scott wouldn't know that his thoughts of Jimmy's opinions were false. His golden man had never stopped loving him, never for a second, it was impossible for either to do such a thing. And Scott wasn't to know.
He had come to terms with the fact he knew very little. But what he was aware of, as he left Jimmy's house with the poppy still tucked in the chest, that leaving the flower was a good thing. He knew pure and simple that it just felt right.