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A crown of holy fire like thorns circles his head. Liquid sun rains from above as water pours like molten gold. Aeor is in front of him, he bows on his knees in holy reverence. This is it. He can feel Aeor’s power thrumming through his fingertips. The god says nothing, simply watching him with an earnest grace in his every movement.
Aeor’s beauty is terrifying. Aeor is everything, he is the people drinking up his light, he is the wind rushing through the trees, he is each snowflake delicately landing on the poppies and snowdrops pushing through the carpet of snow like newborn lambs raising their head from their mother’s chest. He is one with every non-believer, and Scott’s eyes glow with faith.
Like a river of silver, his own blood flows in a quiet shiver of heaven.
Aeor’s eyes are filled with judgement, and he knows he is being weighed. His sins against his goodwill. The Elvish blade is not inside him, but the wound remains. Scott wants to press his hand against it to stop the blood (or to see the gold coat his fingers, holy worship he’s never touched), but he doesn’t dare move.
Power radiates from Aeor in waves, each washing him in light, purifying him. Scott can’t comprehend anything except from his god in front of him; Rivendell’s Lord, the Saviour of the Elves, the one who came down with a mighty strike to punish the slave owners who kept His people locked up in cages, who cut their ears, who sliced off their hair, who whipped them until their blood stained the floors.
“Smajor.”
His voice, although booming, is gentle, and filled with the kindness Aeor is revered for.
He slowly lifts his head. Only then did he notice he’s on his knees. His hair is matted down to his forehead and curls down in stringy knots. Scott feels tears fill up in his eyes, and he hurriedly blinks them away. He has no right to cry, Aeor is all that matters.
“Your devotion is inspirational. Your sacrifice was great. Throughout your life you have served me as a champion should. You have never once lost your faith in me. For that, I will reward you. I will give you a choice: return to your own world, pick up the pieces and amend your bonds. Or start anew, refresh your soul and send it spinning through the stars.”
Scott could only gasp, and gape in a distinctly un-royal way at the god. A chance to see him again, a way to kiss his lips, run his fingers through his hair, hold him close and whisper about all the things he should’ve when he had the chance.
The chance he has now.
“My Lord…” he whispers, unsure if he retains the right to speak in His awesome presence.
“Speak, my child. I will not hurt you.”
“If… If I choose a new life, will I keep my old memories?”
The god laughs, and he lowers his head so his wonderful antlers are on either side of Scott’s head. He is face to face with the god, and the instinct to look down is overwhelming.
“You will forget, it is a clean slate.”
Scott nods, and swallows. His mouth is dry.
“I wish to return to my old-“ Home isn’t the right word, not without him. “-world. I wish to repair the damage, and to be a king to the people who need me, and a friend to the people that want me.”
Aeor smiles, and warmth like he’s never known floods his bones like a fire licking at the sticks and twigs in a stone grate.
“And so it will be done. Farewell, my champion. You have played the game well. You are beloved in the stars. The universe loves you, because you have loved and been loved in return. Your cards were not always perfect, and you built them into a tower of hope. I love you, champion. I will never leave you. In your darkest hours, speak to me, and I will come.”
The tears started to flow then, and a tingling sensation covers his toes, then his feet, then his ankles, until slowly, his entire body is fizzing. He is separating, he is floating. The holy fire is back, and he lets it consume him.
And he wakes up. And he is not alone. Panting heavily, he shoots up to a sitting position. Clean linen sheets are soft against his bare skin, and he realises he is wearing nothing but a pair of clean brown trousers, certainly not of Elven make. Looking around wildly, the apothecary in the Crystal Cliffs becomes clear to him: the amethyst roof, the spruce rafters, and the calcite walls are familiar and it helps to ground him. A door to his left opens, and a figure with bright finger hair plaited to the side comes it. It takes a few seconds for him to recognise him, but her smile is wide and beaming. Guilt settles in his stomach as he studies her hair, but… there’s no white. Nothing.
Scott has no time to think of anything else before her arms are around him, and patting his bare middle. Looking down, he sees a white bandage circling his stomach.
“What- What happened?” He croaked, and Gem looks at him with a mix of joy and anxiety.
“To you or the world?” She chuckled darkly.
His eyes widened and shifted his weight to his left side, watching as she meddled with several bottles filled with various coloured tinctures.
“Both,” he said eventually. Gem didn’t fault him for his hesitation to answer, and unwrapped the bandages. He shut his eyes immediately, not wanting to see the wound inside him. Only the tiniest sting told him something was being rubbed into the wound. But it was over quickly and fresh bandages were being crossed across his stomach.
“Everyone is okay, and fatalities were surprisingly low. Everyone’s in Mythland, including Pix and fWhip. Pix was incredibly reluctant to leave you, and fWhip didn’t want to leave me on my own, but hey, we’re both doing okay.”
Scott doubted stabbing himself then being resurrected (did he even die?) by a god counted as ‘doing okay’, but he wasn’t going to contradict the wizard.
“And you . When Pix found you, it was… it was scary, Scott. You hadn’t returned for hours and Pix was getting antsy. I never knew you two were so close, by the way.” She commented.
Close is an understatement, he reckoned.
“How long have I been out?“
“A couple days,” she frowned, eyeing him before shoving the tray of bottles back into its correct position behind a wooden counter.
“Oh.”
“I messaged Pix,” she added. “As soon as you woke up I let him know.”
Scott nodded thoughtfully, trying to ignore how quickly his heart was pounding at the mere thought of the Copper King. How much he missed him, how much he had to say.
“How’s Rivendell?” He managed to cough out.
“The damage is minimal, actually. Katherine is staying in contact with your council. They’re helping the people rebuild.”
He nodded slowly. His head was beginning to ache, and all this information was starting to overwhelm him. He just wanted to sleep .
And maybe kiss Pix.
A lot.
Aeor, he missed him. He only saw him briefly at the panicked conference after the earthquakes. Even then, he didn’t even meet his eyes, too ashamed to face the potential disappointment he feared to see.
“I know you love him, and I know he loves you.”
Snapping his head so quickly to look up at her for a moment he fears he has whiplash, his eyes widened and he starts to fumble for words. She laughs and pats his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, until you tell everyone.” Then she leaves, and he’s alone again.
He softly blinks, and before another coherent thought enters his head, he slumps against the pillows and falls into a dreamless sleep.
-
A loud crash startles him awake, and suddenly he’s in his arms, and he’s crying and then they’re both crying. He doesn’t even hear the click of the door as it shuts because he’s so focused on him him him and his hands are gently cupping Scott’s cheeks and his lips are so warm against his and he tastes like cinnamon and the sand baked by the hot desert sun. Their tears mingle together and he can’t help but sob as Pix holds him close, sliding him onto his lap. Scott buries his face into his neck, his beard soft against his skin. He smelled exactly as he remembered; hot spices, honey and a faint whiff of copper. Pix’s only wearing a plain white undershirt and brown travelling trousers in the Pixandrian cut. The shirt reveals a small slice of his tanned chest and a glint of gold around Pix’s neck catches his eyes through the tears. Reaching out with trembling fingers, he loops the gold chain around his fingers, as Pix presses more kisses to his forehead.
“I missed you, sweetheart. More than I dare to say aloud.”
Damn Pix with his formal speech.
He rolled his eyes and tugged his collar down to kiss him again. And again. And again and again and again .
“I love you, sweetheart,” Pix mumbled against his lips, and Scott’s heart melted again as he registered how shocked Pix sounded. The Copper King was always a steady and calm figure, and he feels honoured to be able to see past that cover up.
“I love you, dandelion.” He hears Pix chuckle and blushes.
“I thank Aeor that you’re safe. I… I’m afraid of what I might’ve become without you.”
Scott raises an eyebrow, and tugs Pix in for another kiss, their lips melding together.
“This isn’t like any other love,” Pix laughed, stroking the tip of his ear. Scott suppressed the shudder that came with the action, and adjusted his position, slipping both his arms around Pix’s neck. He peered up at the man, and noticed his lips were slightly swollen. Good.
“Why not?” He had to ask.
Pix grinned, and dived down for another kiss.
“Because it’s us .”