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Celadon looked at the people popping into existence in the reflection of the Egress. Rory Jarsdel. Nausicaä. A young woman Celadon didn’t know. Everyone was there but Arlo. Well, the portrayal of Arlo was there, but Vehan’s likeness wasn't, which meant something was wrong.
Aurelian growled low in his throat, not in on the plan to switch Arlo and Vehan, and also not seeing his beloved amongst the group. Aurelian and Celadon’s dread were mirrored, but for different reasons, different people.
The vast throne room over Toronto was still. As silent as a night could be, with the glow from the city reaching them but none of the sound, save for that which entered through the Egress, muted by the transportation magic.
Only some of the folks who had been spirited to the Viridian Circle knew to expect it, and shock was clearly written amongst the expressions. Nausicaä turned to not-Arlo, still under the impression that her girlfriend was beside her, and asked an unintelligible question before looking down at the silver bracelet on her wrist.
But through the confusion, through the conversations happening in the Circle, one important person was still missing. The most important.
Celadon felt Lethe at his back, felt his hands on the back of his head, almost in a brace, as if expecting something violent was about to occur, and then the world shattered.
Knowledge he had no way of knowing flowed into him. Knowledge that his cousin wasn't really Arlo Jarsdel, but instead was Arlo Flamel. That the oldest, strongest, alchemical family still lived on to this day. And it changed everything.
But it changed nothing. Because his cousin still wasn't here.
At that moment, Vehan faded back into himself, the mask of Arlo's hair darkening, eyes brightening, height lengthening. Aurelian caught on to the trick now, and flung himself toward the Egress, transporting himself toward his soulmate, the two crashing together in a tangle of limbs and tears. The Flamel revelation meant nothing to him when Vehan was finally within his reach.
Nausicaä took one look at her surroundings, at the person beside her who was decidedly not her girlfriend now, and her brows furrowed. She made to grab Vehan roughly, shaking both Aurelian and answers from him, but the Crown Prince stopped her with a placating hand and quick speech that Celadon couldn’t make out. With a furrow of her brow, she spun away into darkness.
Lethe took a step closer to Celadon, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “It seems Arlo has surprised us with a plan of her own.” A light chuckle, though more strained than usual, as his hands traveled down to rest on Celadon's shoulders. “I must say, I'm pleased the two of you never bore me.”
Celadon gave himself one more blink to feel the absence of his family, his best friend, the other part of him that wasn't held by the God at his back, and then his act fell back into place. The court he was building had to continue despite the turmoil that must be happening at the Luminous palace at that moment. The show must go on after all.
He let his trembles subside and his voice deepen, willing the folks in the room to think that he still held all the cards, “Well, now that the guests of honor have arrived, shall we get this party started?”
~
Celadon made it back to his room before letting out the breath he'd been holding for the last hour. Shutting the door, he leaned against the wood and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor and his hands rested on his knees.
His call for war went better than planned, and actually brought more people together than he had expected. Aside from his friends, the fae present by the end all agreed to take action with him, probably just to take Celadon’s power if he died in the coming battles, but beggars can't be choosers. He'd been balancing the hopes and dreams of others for his whole life, what were a few more added to the mix?
But still no Arlo tonight. Arlo Flamel . Celadon knew something big was happening. And knew his cousin would take drastic steps to protect him and Nausicaä and Vehan and her father and this whole damn blasted court from it if she could. At the detriment to her own safety.
Celadon hated not knowing. Hated not being in control.
Lethe, who hadn't entered the room with Celadon but was of course there now anyway, crouched down in front of Celadon and stared at him for a moment. Cel didn't know whether Lethe was going to snap some sense into him or hold him while he cried, and honestly Celadon would take either right now.
But Lethe, who perhaps should be a God of surprises rather than misery, of course did neither. Instead, he began to slip off Celadon's matte black heels and set them neatly against the baseboard. Then came the buttons on Celadon's cuffs and at his neck. When his robe and shirt were loose and slipped off his shoulders, Lethe finally reached for the circlet on his head and removed it, gracefully standing up to walk it over to the mantle above the unlit fireplace.
At this point, Celadon couldn't do anything but stare at the being who could take down this entire palace, probably this entire world, but was so so gently undressing him.
Cel stood up when Lethe returned to the center of the room, letting his clothes fall to the ground as his arches felt the wondrous pressure of relaxing into the ground. He already knew what Lethe would say, but he had to ask anyway. “Do you know what’s going on? You set the block on Arlo’s memories, you must have some idea.”
Lethe shook his head sadly. “If Arlo had any sense, she’d have arrived in the Circle with everyone else. I don’t know her motivations for staying behind.”
Celadon’s shoulders dropped as he rested his head on Lethe’s chest. “She’s still alive though, right? She hasn’t become a full hunter yet?” Celadon knew, he knew , that he would feel it when Arlo died.
“No,” Lethe growled. “Nausicaä is still under Riadne’s thumb, so wherever Arlo is, whatever she’s doing, she hasn’t died yet.”
Nothing was said between the two of them after that, Celadon trying to settle into the unknown. Trying to convince himself that he could do nothing right now but trust Arlo.
When moonlight burst from behind a cloud and streamed in through the open bedroom window, Cel returned the favor for Lethe, removing the ceremonial attire that the God had let Celadon dress him in earlier. It was a take on his usual clothing but with better stitching and embroidered moons along the edges, the black thread on the black leather almost impossible to see but lending power to the garment nonetheless. Cel had been mildly surprised, and greatly pleased, when Lethe had agreed to wear it. Clothing was armor for Celadon, and he was glad that he could provide this little bit of safety to the male he would always protect, even if he didn’t need it.
When every piece of the evening’s cloth was removed from between them, Lethe finally grinned smokily, “You know I can just snap my fingers and undress myself, right?”
The lightness in his tone, the familiar teasing, was exactly what Cel needed in this moment. He finally let the stress dissipate from his taught shoulder muscles, which had been trapped in place since the Egress had shown everyone but Arlo. Celadon released a sigh that almost became the huff of a laugh, and finally looked up into Lethe's poison green eyes. “Yeah, but you like it when I undress you.”
All teasing gone from Lethe's expression now, he dripped a little bit of his heart into the air between them, “I do, my Moon. I like that I can touch you, and you can touch me. It's something between us that I never expected I would get.”
Well, that was an opening if Cel ever heard one. Lethe knew his vulnerability right now, knew Celadon would finally say what he needed to because he didn’t have an ounce of wall left to hide behind after the night's events. And Lethe wasn’t one shy away from prodding open wounds when it would get him what he wanted.
“Lethe,” Celadon put his palms against his partner's chest. “I don't know if I'll ever be able to give you traditional aspects of a relationship. Sex, for example. I like kissing you, occasionally, and this closeness that we have right now is very important to me. But I don't know if I'll ever get past the actions that others might deem platonic.”
Lethe brought up a hand and used a single finger to trace along Celadon's wrist. Then along each of his knuckles, still resting on the bare, cold skin of Lethe's chest. “Does this feel platonic to you?” the God breathed into his ear.
Celadon quickly shook his head as his own breath hitched from the light touch.
“Good,” and Lethe was close enough now that Cel could feel his lips brush the outside edge of his ear. “Because it doesn't to me either. Now, will you come to bed and let me hold you until you fall asleep?”
Cel didn't even bother answering, he just pulled Lethe toward the bed and they tumbled down into the covers. Lethe's rigid, unmoving body braced above his own, each of Cel's ragged breaths bringing their chests closer. They held each other's gaze for a moment, an eternity, before Lethe leaned in to nip at Cel's bottom lip. It wasn't anything more than a slight pull of teeth, and then he rotated his hard torso and limbs to slide Celadon on his side, Lethe fitting himself against his back, arms wrapping tight around Celadon's chest. Holding together everything that felt like crumbling.
“The God of Misery and his Night King,” Cel chuckled after a moment. “What a pair we make.”
Lethe's next words were buried in Celadon's hair, still black from the night’s events, but he felt the whispers throughout his whole body. “The lost heir and his moon, the hunter and his high prince, god and king, it matters not what we are called, only that our souls have found each other again.”
And contrary to their current titles, as Lethe spoke those words, every piece of skin where the two connected warmed with comfort, with closeness, with the dark blanket of fate.