Work Text:
The small, wooden block sat in the palm of Louis' hand. Carvings snaked across its surface, vines that curled into the blood red gem in the centre. The object was a magical relic of some sort - that much was obvious just from holding it. Power emanated from it, radiating an energy that travelled up Louis' arm, into his torso, and right into his heart, as though it was monitoring his pulse. Despite its size, the thing must be very potent indeed - though Louis hadn't a clue how it worked. He slowly traced the edges of the gemstone, feeling the points through his gloves. It seemed as though it had a little give - a button perhaps? It was late, and he really ought to be getting to sleep soon, but surely there was no harm in testing it?
Idly, Louis pressed the gemstone.
Without warning, his vision went white, pins and needles tore though his entire body until it went numb, and the ground beneath him seemed to melt away. When the world returned, Louis could hear birdsong, the rustling of leaves - wherever he was now, it was far from the Charadrius. Pushing himself upright, he found that he was sitting in the grass, trees surrounding him like an ancient council, a thick canopy of leaves above his head. Through the cracks, it seemed to be daylight, but it made little difference - hardly any of the sun's rays could permeate nature’s ceiling, leaving the world below dim. Louis got to his feet, supposing the night must have passed him by while he was unconscious, but that no longer mattered. He needed to figure out where this relic had taken him - there was no guarantee he was even still in Euchronia.
Bending down, he picked up the device, though it looked a little different now - the gemstone in the centre had gone from a vibrant red to a dull grey. Intriguing, but Louis could consider it later. There were more important things to do.
The dim light made it difficult for Louis to see where he was going, and he had to put a great deal of effort into stopping himself from falling over. Without even thinking, he kept an arm in front of his chest defensively - he'd already taken his armour and epaulettes off for the day, and it had left him feeling defenceless and exposed, particularly when there could be any number of threats lurking unseen in the forest.
After walking for a short while, Louis began to notice patches where the leaves above thinned a little, and soon he spotted buildings not too far away. He began to get a little closer, but not too close - he needed to gauge if it would be safe to approach first. Something stirred in Louis' chest as he observed the town. Familiarity? Like he'd been here before, yet he couldn't quite place it. The longer he looked, the more the feeling grew, until the realisation finally dawned on him - this village looked uncannily like the one he grew up in. In fact, some bordered on identical to buildings he vividly remembered seeing burn. It was likely he was still in Euchronia then, if the architecture was anything to go by.
Behind him, Louis heard the snap of a branch, and he whirled around, yet as he did so, the ground betrayed him, and he lost his footing. In the gloom, he had failed to notice a ditch, and he couldn't help but cry out as he fell and landed uncomfortably on his ankle. Pain shot up his leg, hot and pulsing, but Louis ignored it and attempted to struggle to his feet before whatever had startled him had a chance to get the upper hand. Wincing, Louis pretended as though he wasn't injured, and glanced around suspiciously. Behind a tree not far away, he spotted a small, yellow tuft sticking out.
Someone was watching him.
"Reveal yourself. I know you're there." Louis said.
Slowly, a face began to peer out from behind the tree. A small child, his hair blonde, and eyes piercing blue even in the limited light - he looked much like Louis must have when he was that age. Louis' shoulders relaxed a little. This boy wouldn't be able to harm him.
"Who are you?" He asked, the adrenaline beginning to wear off - the pain in his ankle was getting too much to ignore. Before the boy even had a chance to answer, he collapsed back down to the ground. It would be impossible to get back up without help. Gritting his teeth, Louis tried to get his boot off to assess the damage, but it hurt to adjust himself, and his ankle was already starting to swell. Damn.
Though he was clearly nervous, the boy came closer, and as he did so Louis realised he was looking at an elda child. Something akin to dread came over him. This was... wrong, somehow. The elda boy. The village. Yet the pain addled his mind, preventing him from thinking straight.
Hesitantly, the boy got close enough to Louis to touch him, then reached out and grabbed his arm.
"What are you doing?" Louis asked as the boy tried ineffectually to pull him to his feet.
"Trying to help." The boy said meekly, his voice soft and quiet, barely louder than a whisper.
"I'm afraid you're not nearly strong enough to lift me, and even if you were, I don't think I could walk unassisted."
Releasing Louis' arm, the boy stared at him - thinking perhaps? It was difficult to say. His face was entirely blank.
"I'll get help," he said, then turned and disappeared into the village before Louis could say another word.
Left with nothing else to do, Louis tried to put the pieces together. Perhaps the entire village hadn't burned after all? Had there been other survivors? Could this be the remnants of his home, rebuilt after over a decade of healing? Surely such a thing should be impossible, and yet...
The idea should have made him happy, elated. Perhaps it would have, once. But Louis found that he didn't care at all. Some had the strength to survive, others did not. That was all there was to it.
After a few minutes, Louis heard branches snapping leaves crunching, and twisted his torso to look for his rescuers.
"Over here somewhere, you said?" A woman's voice rang out, though Louis could not yet see her. He was absolutely certain he'd heard this voice before. Though he had no clue as to why, he'd never been so sure of anything. The wave of familiarity, of nostalgia that came over him when he heard it was almost enough to make him feel sick.
Then she came into view. And it was like looking in a mirror.
It was startling just how much she resembled him. His eyes, his hair, his nose - she had it all. It couldn't be anyone he was related to, his entire family was long dead, and yet... surely this was what his mother looked like? Swallowing hard, his heart began to race. Given that she had been dead for fifteen years, Louis could no longer recall her face, but he remembered people saying he resembled her, even back then. On closer inspection, he realised that this woman was no more than a few years older than him, and he relaxed. He was being ridiculous - of course this wasn't his mother. He'd seen her die.
"Hello there," she said, smiling and crouching down to Louis' level, "You've got yourself a little lost I see."
"Perhaps," Louis replied, eyes drifting from the woman to her son, who seemed to have already become bored, and was looking for something to entertain him. Following Louis' gaze, the woman turned and looked behind her, then sighed with frustration.
"Louis, do try not to wander off," she called.
Louis froze. The boy's name was... Louis?
He wanted to dismiss it as a coincidence. Say it was nothing. And yet, with all he'd seen so far he couldn't.
"Is everything alright?" The woman asked. His mother asked? "You've gone awfully pale all of a sudden."
"Hm? Yes, yes, of course," Louis said after a momentary pause, "Well, aside from my ankle."
She laughed. "Well, I'm one of the healers for this town, so I'll be happy to take you in and see what I can do. How does that sound?"
"Excellent," Louis said, "You have my gratitude."
"Alright then," she said, standing up and offering Louis her hands, "I'll help you up, and you can put your weight on me as we walk. Think you can manage that?"
"Of course." Louis grabbed her hands and pulled himself up, hissing with pain as he put his foot down without thinking. Gently, the woman brought his arm up and around her shoulders, and he leaned into her.
"So," she asked, after they started walking, "What's your name?"
"Lo- Lawrence. Lawrence Guiabern." His head was so scrambled he nearly forgot to lie. Normally, he would not abide such a thing but... these were exceptional circumstances. The woman introduced herself in turn, and Louis found he could deny the truth that lay in front of him no more. She had his mother's name. This town, the woman, the boy... He could not reject the truth when it was so apparent. Somehow, this relic had thrust him back in time.
Trying to suppress his rising panic, Louis continued making small talk with his mother as they made their way back to her home. His home. His heart raced so fast he felt dizzy. He needed to calm down - why was he even reacting so poorly? They couldn't hurt him - wouldn't hurt him. No matter what came to pass, he would be completely fine. What did it matter who they were? His parents were just a few years away from being as dead as they always had. The hangman's noose was already around their necks. They were just waiting for the floor to open beneath them.
Usually, the knowledge that no-one could lay a finger on him was comforting to Louis. Kept him focused. Composed. Yet it was doing nothing here. Just talking to his mother, even though he stared at the ground to avoid seeing her face, made him feel like his organs were turning inside out.
Thankfully, the walk back to their home was not a long one. The moment Louis walked through the threshold, tears pricked at his eyes, and he fought to blink them back. It smelled like his childhood. Nostalgia and grief intertwined, a painful reminder of how much easier things used to be, and just how much he'd lost.
Louis' mother helped to settle him down on the sofa, propping his injured leg up.
"Are you okay?" She asked, looking at him with concern. Damn. She could see how watery his eyes were. Of course she could. Louis had started to forget just how perceptive she was.
"Fine. Just, the pain, is all." Technically, it wasn't untrue. It just wasn't the physical pain that bothered him.
"Alright, well, let me see what I can do." She began rifling through some drawers for the supplies she needed. Behind her, the younger Louis stood awkwardly in the doorway. Had he really been such a shy child? He knew he didn't have the same confidence as he did now, but this was worse than he remembered - or perhaps it just appeared that way from the outside, when it had not seemed so to him at the time.
"Louis? Come over here and watch me. It'll be useful for you to learn." His mother said, and the younger Louis approached hesitantly.
Looking at the boy, knowing who he was, made Louis rather uncomfortable. Some sort of separation between himself and this child needed to be made - perhaps he ought to call him by a nickname rather than his actual one. Yet his name was so short that nicknames did not come easily. Lou, maybe? He could think of nothing better, so Lou it would have to be.
Louis' mother returned to his side with a pot of some sort of gel, some bandages, and a splint.
"Alright, the gel should numb the pain and reduce swelling, the bandages are just to hold the splint in place. It'll give you some extra support. I'm not sure what it's like where you're from, but here, we try not to use magic for healing unless it's strictly necessary."
Gently, she removed Louis' boot to gauge the severity of his injury. A yelp escaped his lips unbidden as she did so and the pain spiked, leaving his ankle throbbing. Looking down at his feet, he saw just how red and swollen his ankle was - he was lucky it hadn't taken his mother more effort to get his boot off. It could have been far more painful. Then, she began to apply the salve. It was cold, and Louis couldn't help flinching, but his mother held his ankle in place. Before long, it had gone completely numb, and his mother had placed his ankle in the splint, carefully explaining what she was doing to Lou while she worked.
"There. I'll go and get you some crutches so you can move around still."
While he waited for her to return, Louis couldn't help but wonder if she knew - or at least had an inkling. She wasn't blind. She could see just how similar they looked. Still, it would be absurd for her to assume that he was her son, all grown up. Such a thing should be impossible. But would she think they were related somehow? Perhaps not, given she thought he were a clemar, but if she were to find out he wasn't... what would she think then?
Before he could devote any more thought to the matter, Louis' mother came back, crutches in hand.
"So," she said, sitting on the arm of the sofa, "How far are you from home? It's quite unusual for us to see clemar around here."
"Rather far," Louis replied. It was the understatement of the century. "I'm surprised you've seen any clemar in these parts." He wasn't surprised, of course. But he wanted to know if Hythlodaeus was here yet, and if so, how long he'd been here for.
"Well, we've seen the one. He's been here for a couple of months now. It was quite a surprise to receive such a guest, but he's been very interested in our little village, and the chieftess has been more than happy to host him." A smirk flashed across his mother's face, "But perhaps that's a conversation for when somebody has gone to bed," she said, petting Lou's head and messing up his hair. "In any case, you're more than welcome to stay here until you've recovered. Wouldn't want you travelling on an injury like that."
Louis bit his lip. He didn't want to stay, and yet what choice did he have? Even if he left the village, he was displaced from where he should be by decades. The Charadrius was not somewhere he could simply walk to - it hadn't even been built yet.
"Thank you for your generosity," Louis said, after a momentary pause.
Before long, evening came, and Louis found himself in the bed in his family's spare room. Though rest rarely came to him easily, to his surprise, he found that he managed a fitful sleep. When he awoke in the morning, he made his way to the kitchen on his crutches.
"Good morning, Lawrence," his mother said, already making breakfast, while Lou sat at the table, playing with a set of wooden figurines - though it was less 'playing' and more that he was lining them up. "How did you sleep?"
"Well, thank you," Louis replied.
"I'm glad to hear it," she said, as Louis sat at the table, "I have a few errands I need to run today, so I was wondering if you might be able to look after this little rascal for me." She tugged at Lou's cheek as she gave him his food.
Louis momentarily froze, glancing to the child, then back to his mother.
"I am not the best with children," he said, discomfort evident in his voice.
"Oh don't worry, he'll be fine. I call him a rascal but he's a good boy really, aren't you my dear?" She patted his head. "All you'll need to do is watch over him and make sure he doesn't wander off or burn the house down or anything. He'll find something to occupy himself I'm sure."
Despite his desire to refuse, Louis found himself rather stuck - he was being allowed to stay here without having to pay a single reeve. How could he say no to so simple a task? To become a troublesome guest and be thrown out was more hassle than it was worth.
"Alright," he relented, "How long do you think you'll be?"
"Well, I need to leave in about an hour, and I'll probably get back two, maybe three hours later? No longer than that. I won't leave you with him too long, I promise."
Louis nodded. "As you wish. I will watch over him until your return."
"Oh, wonderful. Usually I take him with me - he will need to learn these things after all - but he doesn't enjoy it very much. Gets very agitated if I take him too many days in a row."
Louis had vague memories of this, of his mother taking him to visit people with minor injuries and ailments. Most of what he remembered was complicated words he didn't understand at the time, and overall being bored out of his mind. He would have vastly preferred to have his nose buried in a book, and yet his mother wouldn't let him - he had to pay attention. It had been excruciating for a boy so young.
Before long, Louis had moved into the living room, and his mother had left. While he lay on the sofa, his injured leg propped up by cushions, his younger self sat on the floor, pen and paper in hand. It seemed that he was drawing something, though his body was angled in such a way that Louis couldn't see what. Next to the boy sat a brown teddy bear. Louis remembered it vividly from when he was young - he took it with him everywhere. By the time the fire took everything, it was covered in patches and had hardly any stuffing left, but this version of it was practically in mint condition.
Pushing down the ache in his chest, Louis supposed he ought to make some sort of an attempt of interacting with the child. He did not like to leave a job done poorly, especially not when it could put him in the good graces of those that were useful to him.
"What is it that you're drawing?" Louis asked, sitting up a little.
With a start, Lou turned to face him, evidently nervous. He stared at Louis for a few drawn-out moments, then turned back to his drawing, being even more careful that Louis couldn't see what he was doing. Still, he had difficulty believing the extent of his shyness. He knew that it had taken some time for his confidence to build into what it was now. While they may have been alike in appearance, in personality, his younger self could hardly be more different.
Sighing, Louis flopped back down on the sofa. Children. He'd never been good at handling them, nor did he think he ever would be. The mere thought of having his own made his skin crawl. How anyone could stand to be a parent was a mystery to him - but at least Lou was well behaved.
Looking for something to occupy himself with, Louis' gaze travelled across the room until it landed on a nearby shelf. On it rested a book - one that was very familiar to him indeed. 'Utopia.' The ink on the pages could hardly be dry, with how recently it must have been written - quite frankly, Louis was surprised the Charadriuses even had a copy so soon after Hythlodaeus' arrival. But regardless of how it had ended up there, it was better entertainment than anything else Louis could see, and so he grabbed his crutches and went to pick it up.
Not long after he began reading, Louis felt a pair of curious eyes boring into him from across the room. Briefly, he looked up to see Lou staring at him, but he paid the child no mind. If he wanted something, he could ask for it.
It took a few minutes, but eventually Lou very slowly and timidly crept across the room, until he stood at Louis' shoulder, peering over at the book.
"Hm? Do you want something?" Louis asked, turning to look at him. Lou looked at the floor, shifting uncomfortably, then mumbled something Louis couldn't hear at all.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to repeat yourself."
"That book is my favourite," he said, still quiet, but his words were discernable.
"Is that so?" Louis said, repositioning himself so that he was sitting on the sofa, rather than lying down.
"Mhm!" Lou nodded. Talk of 'Utopia' had really brought him to life. "Mister Horns reads it to me sometimes, when he's not busy. It's his book, he wrote it."
"Mister... Horns?" Louis had no recollection of such a nickname.
"His real name is tricky," Lou explained, "He said I can call him that to make it easier."
An understanding of the situation began to form in Louis' head. With Hythlodaeus' arrival being so recent, it seemed Lou had no idea he was royalty.
"But now there's two Mister horns..." Lou said contemplatively, tilting his head to the side.
"I have no need of nicknames. My name should be easy enough for you."
"Law-rence," Lou said slowly, testing the name.
"That's right."
An uncomfortable silence settled between them, but before it could last too long, Lou sat on the sofa, placing his teddy bear in his lap.
"Can you read it to me?" Lou asked. "I can't do it on my own yet."
Sighing, Louis turned to look at Lou, at his big, round, puppy eyes that begged him to read just a little. They were like blades to his heart, a threat he could not ignore. Besides, he couldn't risk Lou getting upset - his hosts would not take it kindly.
"Alright," Louis said, then went back to the beginning and began to read.
After the first few pages, Louis felt a slight pressure against his arm, and his entire body went rigid. Losing concentration momentarily, he looked to the side and saw that Lou had learned against him, craning his neck to get a better view of the book. Seeing as Louis had stopped, he looked up at him expectantly, blinking those big blue eyes. Damn it. What was wrong with him? Why could he not resist those eyes? Alright. Fine. If this was how it was to be. Still tense, Louis resumed reading.
It wasn't long before Lou began quietly snoring. Unable to move, with the child sleeping against him, Louis simply continued to read the book on his own until his mother came back.
"How is everything?" She said upon her return, then let out a little gasp when she saw Lou curled up at Louis' side. "Oh, he's got very attached to you, hasn't he," she whispered from the doorway.
"I... suppose," Louis said, trying to avoid looking down at the child. It was better when he could avoid acknowledging his existence.
"Well, as much as I don't like to wake him, he'll be needing lunch. I imagine you must be hungry as well?"
"A little," Louis replied.
"Alright then. You get your rest, I'll take Louis off of your hands and get some food ready"
Later that evening, Louis heard the front door open, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. It couldn't be his mother - she was upstairs with Lou - and so it could only be...
Footsteps approached, then a man swung around the doorframe.
"Say, sweetheart, have you- oh sorry, mistook you for the wife for a moment there. You two look remarkably similar, you know that?" The man said.
Louis blinked. He had to admit, he recognised the man not by sight, but by process of elimination - there was only one 'wife' he could be mistaken for, which made this man... his father. Looking at him, Louis wasn't sure he'd inherited anything of his appearance at all - not the hooked nose, nor the olive skin, nor his brown hair, which was tied behind his head in a ponytail. Even if he wanted to - which he most certainly did not - Louis doubted he would be able to grow facial hair like his father's, either.
Louis cleared his throat. "She's upstairs."
"Ah, of course. I'll go and grab her in a minute, it's not urgent. Might as well get to know our guest a little, while I'm here, especially since I missed you last night, what with me getting home late and you going to bed early. Your name is..." He drummed his fingers on his face as he tried to remember. "Lawrence?" He looked at Louis hopefully.
"That's correct." Louis had known his father to be a high-energy sort of person, but that was less something he remembered and more of a fact that had lodged itself into his brain. Seeing it in person was entirely different.
"Lawrence, right, great, excellent." He leaned against the doorframe. "So, whereabouts are you from?"
"Quite a ways from here," Louis said, "Coming to this village was not my intention, I assure you."
"Relax, there's no need to be so formal," his father said, raising his hands, "If you were here to cause trouble, my wife never would've let you in. I've never known a better judge of character - if she says you're good, then I believe her. Never a word out of her mouth that I wouldn't trust."
"Thank you, I suppose - or perhaps I ought to be thanking Mrs Charadrius."
"What did I just say about the formality, hm?" He laughed, "In any case, it was nice to meet you Lawrence, we'll chat later, I'm sure."
Exhaling deeply, Louis released the tension in his muscles. Every conversation in this house was a battle. In fact, he'd faced real battles that were far easier than this. All of the violence he'd seen, the bloodbaths he'd caused, the deaths that followed in his wake - none of them held a candle to what being in this house, talking to these people did to him. He constantly needed to keep his defences up, fortify his mind against the barrage of mental attacks, the desperate clawing against the walls he'd built around his heart. What would happen if those shields failed him, he did not wish to find out.
For the next couple of weeks, Louis continued this routine, being treated by his mother, babysitting Lou when asked, and talking a little with his parents in the evenings. His injury was virtually healed, but it wasn't as though he had anywhere to go. Every morning, he would check the little block that had taken him here, and he began to notice the red returning to the gemstone in its face. It was recharging - albeit slowly. With a little more patience, Louis would be able to return to where he was meant to be.
Over the course of his time at the Charadrius house, Lou had become incredibly attached to Louis - he always wanted to be in the same room as him, and had a tendency to follow him around, sometimes without his notice. When Lou thought he wasn't looking, he would sometimes try and copy his mannerisms, the way he sat, the way he held himself, the way he spoke - though he didn't quite have a grip on what a lot of Louis' vocabulary actually meant. It was... a little cute, Louis begrudgingly admitted, though not out loud. Once, when his father had to bring a patient to the house, Lou had even hidden behind him, clutching his leg and peering out at the stranger.
One day, Louis sat in the living room, while Lou sat drawing as he often did, and his mother sipped a cup of tea while reading a book. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lou get up, clutch the drawing to his chest, and walk towards him.
"Yes?" Louis said, and Lou flinched a little. Despite his adoration for him, Lou still did struggle at times with Louis' sternness. His eyes flicked down to the piece of paper in Lou's hands. Despite how often the boy drew, he'd never shown any of his drawings.
"It's... for you." Lou held out the drawing and stared at the floor. Carefully, Louis plucked it from his hands and examined it. It took a few moments for him to decipher it - it was made with a child's hand after all - but then he realised what he was looking at.
He swallowed hard.
"This- this is..." Louis tried to keep his voice steady, but it was a struggle, and his cheeks began to flush with embarrassment - it was degrading to react so strongly to such an immature drawing, even if-
Even if it was of him. And of his younger self. Smiling. Reading together. Happy.
"Thank you," Louis said, "It's wonderful."
'Don't cry. Do not cry. Do not let him see any semblance of sadness on your face.'
"You like it?" Lou asked, his face glowing.
"Of course."
A smile as bright as the sun spread across the boy's face, and he jumped onto the sofa, giggling, and wrapped his arms around Louis' torso in a big hug. Fighting the paralysis that was attempting to take hold of him, Louis returned the gesture, putting his arms around the boy. It was so rare to see him smile at all, and he'd never seen him smile like that.
He only had so many of those innocent smiles left. What good would it do to take them away from him? Normally, Louis would never display any such care for a child but... he knew the path this one would walk. The tragedies in his future. There was no purpose in being cruel to him now.
"I want to be just like you when I grow up," Lou whispered, while nestled in his arms.
"I... I'm sure you will be."
Louis needed to get out. To escape. He was coming apart at the seams and he needed to be alone before he fell apart entirely. As he tried to keep control of his breathing, he looked across the room and made eye contact with his mother. She knew. In that moment he was absolutely certain of it. He'd never been so sure of anything in his life.
"Alright Louis, why don't you give Lawrence a chance to put your drawing away with the rest of his things? Make sure it's kept safe," she said
"Okay," Lou said reluctantly, withdrawing his arms, and Louis got up and hurried out of the room, not even stopping to thank his mother for the out she'd given him. He didn't trust himself to speak.
Once he got to his room, Louis put the drawing on the side, then sat on his bed. Within moments, his head was on his knees, his hands pulling with anguish at his hair, and his body was wracked with sobs, tears spilling down his face in a cascade. He had to remind himself to breathe.
This must be some cruel trick by the universe. To remind him of everything that he had lost. Of everything that had been ripped from him, before he'd even been old enough to appreciate what he had. Perhaps this was what he deserved, but regardless, this was a form of torture he never could have imagined. To see himself, young, innocent, a bright future ahead of him, and with an outpouring of love and support from wherever he looked. It made his chest ache. He'd taught himself to forget there was a hole where his heart used to be, but this had torn open the wound anew, as painful as the day he had got it.
Quietly, the door opened.
"Is everything alright?" His mother asked softly.
Louis sprang up in an instant, tried to dry his cheeks, but it was futile - there was no hiding his tears.
"Oh dear..." She came up to him and rubbed his back, soothing him. Looking to the wall, Louis realised the two of them were stood by the mirror, and his eyes went wide as he saw himself and his mother, side by side. The resemblance was not just uncanny. Quite frankly, it would be foolish to assume they weren't related.
"You really do look just like me, don't you... Louis?" She said.
"Are you trying to suggest that your son and I are one and the same? The mere notion is absurd," he said, though his heart wasn't in it.
His mother said nothing, only reached up and pried the horns off of his head. He let her. What point was there in defending a secret she already knew?
"You're lucky, you know. When Hythlodaeus first came here, Louis - or you, I suppose - tried to take his horns off. He didn't think they were real. I imagine it would've complicated things if he tried to do that to you."
Louis said nothing.
"How long have you known?"
"Do you take me for a fool?" She asked, "How could I look at you and not assume something was amiss? Right from the outset, I was trying to figure you out, and it didn't take long. You might be a very different man now, but at your core, you are still my son. Even with the age difference, with the two of you in one room, it isn't difficult to see just how alike you are."
“And you didn’t dismiss it as impossible?”
“Magic can do all sorts of weird and wonderful things - no-one fully understands it. Why shouldn’t it be possible?”
"I see." For the most part, Louis had managed to calm himself, though his hands still shook.
"So..." Louis' mother guided him back to the bed, and the two sat together. "How long have we been gone?"
"What?" Louis said, his back straightening in surprise.
"Oh, come now, even in the few weeks I've known you as an adult, I can tell you're a very intelligent man. You don't think you got that from your father, do you? You wouldn't react as you have to seeing us unless we had passed away." With great care, she tucked a few loose strands of hair behind Louis' ear.
All Louis could do was stare. He supposed that there were many things that children did not realise about their parents until adulthood - and he'd never had the chance. It was evident that his mother was not the kind of person you could hide things from. Just like him. He wondered then if he could warn her. Tell her to leave this town before it was too late, before it was ravaged by fire and they were taken by the flames. But he couldn't bring himself to. Losing his home and his family had destroyed him, yes, but it had also made him. Without it, he never would have become the man he was now, and if he didn't, then who would try and save this country? Hythlodaeus was going to give up. The Sanctists would see the country in ruin. No, he needed to exist. To make sure he existed. Even at the cost of his own family. What was one more sacrifice? He'd already made hundreds. Bartering with lives was his bread and butter.
Besides, even if he did warn her, Louis knew in his heart she would not leave. This town needed the Charadriuses - they would not abandon it. Why should they, when the proof that the only thing that truly mattered sat right in front of them? Their son would live. That was what was most important.
"I cannot say," Louis said, eventually, "I would not wish for you to have the day of your death hanging over your head."
"I can't argue with that, I suppose," she said. For a moment, there was silence, but then she pulled Louis into a hug, and he could not bring himself to refuse. "I'm not sure how much of your growing up I'll see, but I'm glad that I at least get to see you now."
It took a little while longer for the relic to finish recharging. Once it did, Louis considered pressing it without saying goodbye. Simply disappearing. It would certainly be easier. And yet he couldn't bring himself to be so harsh - he supposed he'd always had a bit of a soft spot for his family.
They all hugged him goodbye, though Lou was distraught, clinging to him and begging him to stay. He would get over it quickly though, Louis was sure. His lack of memory of this incident was indication enough of how much of an impression it had really left on him.
When he finally got away, Louis walked into the forest, went as close as he could get to where he'd been when he arrived. After ensuring that he wasn't being watched, Louis pulled the relic out of his pocket. Pressed the gemstone in the middle.
At last. Back on track. Back where he should be.