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At the age of fifteen Terence was given a small and remote village of a dozen farm houses nestled amidst gently rolling hills, a day's journey from Oriflamme on chocoboback, as his knight’s fief. Despite technically owning the land, Terence spent no more than a month combined there in his youth, largely leaving the villagers to their own devices. By his twentieth birthday, the village's wheat production had started to dwindle rapidly. At twenty-two, he asked Dion for an advance for the first time, using the money to relocate all the villagers to the capital and help them find employment to fill their bellies.
When he returned to the village many years after Origin fell, Terence found what were once wheat fields now blanketed with purple Wyverntail as far as the eye could see. He learned that where the purple Wyverntail thrived, other wildflowers would bloom the following year, then in two or three years the soil would be ready for grains. The soil remembers what it is; it just needs a little reminder. It was a saying cherished by horticulturists from the Hideaway, who traversed widely across the Twins.
When Terence handed leadership over to a council chosen by the various settlements and retired from the grand halls of Oriflamme, he was greeted by the aroma of freshly baked bread at the village entrance. It marked the first loaf baked since the Blight had ravaged this little village. The stone mills came back to life after years of dormancy, filling the farmers with immense joy as if they had just witnessed the Goddess descending from the heavens and performing a miracle firsthand.
Terence slowly climbed a somewhat steep hill, stopping twice to rest on the way. At the top of the hill there was a view of a large field of wheat that swelled like a sea tide, small patches of land planted with other crops, and Anton, who had baked sweet potatoes on fire with fallen leaves - a stocky young man who had been apprenticed to Kiyele, and who had come to the village last winter to open a clinic. Anton had mentioned that children now preferred the crops of the Outer Continent, and that they should brush their teeth when they ate the sweet-flavored stuff, and he seemed to be enjoying it himself. On the horizon at the end of the line of sight were the fields of Flying Dragon Grass flowers pushing tenaciously forward, like a purple edge to the demarcation line between the earth and the sky.
Just like today, the entire village bustled around wheat harvesting; with the swaying wheat ears and the fragrance of the grain as the revived heartbeat and breath of the land. Terence stepped out of his house with an energetic “Morning, milord!” from Ottie from the top of a ladder, performing maintenance on the village windmill. Terence recalled Ottie being born unexpectedly inside a chocobo carriage and Dion, with a tiny statue of the Goddess in hand, blessed her at the gates of Oriflamme. Her parents, to quell the uncertainty surrounding their new life, entrusted Terence with the task of naming their daughter.
Terence ascended a somewhat steep hill, pausing to catch his breath along the way. From the hilltop, he beheld a vast expanse of wheat fields moving like ocean waves, patches of land bearing other crops, and the apprentice of Kihel, who roasted sweet potatoes over a fire of fallen leaves. This hulking young man named Anton arrived in the village last winter to establish his own clinic. Since then he has taken note of the children's preference for crops from the Outer Continent and lectured them on the necessity of brushing teeth after consuming sweet treats. He appeared to relish the delicacy himself.On the horizon, beyond the wheat fields, Wyverntails still advanced steadily, forming a purple border between earth and heavens.
At the hill's summit stood a tiny chapel with only three rows of pews where Terence and Dion secretly exchanged rings when they were just eighteen. The original rose windows in the chapel, once fashioned from crystal shards devoid of magic, crumbled to dust during the village's years of abandonment. However, a group of teenagers in the village learned that artisans in Ran'dellah had devised a method for crafting stained glass and volunteered to make the window anew. Though they had been pulled away by their parents to assist in the fields, the window depicting the Heroes of Origin was already taking form: large sheets of blue-green glass formed dragon wings, while the dragon's body and claws looked solid and powerful.
"Dion, it seems the village kids have portrayed you with a bit of extra bulk."
Terence's prince, awaiting him atop the hill, erupted into laughter, his blonde locks dancing in the wind like the golden wheat fields. Wrapped around Terence's ring finger was a lock of that blonde hair—strands expertly braided into a thin braid, encased within a silver ring that hung loosely beside another simple wedding band engraved with Dion's name. It was said the ring was Dion's idea, commissioned from the blacksmith at the Hideaway.
"With this ring shall my soul return to you." read the letter Dion had sent with the ring. Lady Shiva herself traveled to deliver it upon its completion, and when Terence expressed his gratitude, she merely shook her head. "I'd like to revisit the markets of Northreach, too.”
Terence’s mind started wandering while he wondered where his old friend had journeyed off to. With a playful poke, Dion inquired, "What's on your mind? Shall I take you for a flight?"
Terence had been assigned to the infantry upon becoming a dragoon, as his father and brother were both tall. He was not trained on riding dragons into the sky. "Would you like to ride on my back?" Dion had asked on multiple occasions. However, Terence adamantly refused to allow Dion to use his lifeforce for him. During the onset of lithification on Dion's arms, the two engaged in a lengthy conversation that stretched into late night. "In the future, whether you find love again or not, it’s fine to me. I won't ask you to live on for my sake. I just want you to make an attempt," Dion said softly while stroking Terence's hair.
Just as Terence was about to refuse the offer again, he found himself carried by Dion and elevated off the ground.
"How do you find it so far?" After flying about for a while, Dion inquired.
"I like it. Is this the view you see every time?"
"I mean this new world, too."
"Everything's going smoothly... It's just that I always have conflicting emotions in my heart," Terence admitted. We're one soul in two bodies, Dion used to say often. "I can feel you have never left me... but I still miss you more with every passing day."
Without a word, Dion lowered his head and kissed Terence. As Terence reached up to stroke Dion's blonde hair, he felt something amiss in his fingers. "Dion, the rings seem to have fallen off."
Terence gazed at his hand and realized that it wasn't just the ring that had disappeared. The wrinkles that lined his hand were gone, and his fingers were no longer dry and thin, but had transformed back into the strong look of his youth.
"Pay them no mind. Just let them stay with you, like we'll never be apart again."