bicsbec

[bicsbec]

So not a question but

I just wanted to send my love for your fic “stay a little longer” I don’t have a ao3 account but just wanted to say I absolutely love it, it’s one of my go to comfort reads (I’ve read it 3-4 times now.)

there’s not much content out there for coran/Kolivan and it’s just such a well written fic I genuinely can’t express how much I love it

So yeah just wanted to say thank you for putting the effort in to write it and thank you for sharing it

Hello there! firstly, thank you for reaching out and for the kind words! Stay a Little Longer is a particularly special one for me, so it really means a lot to hear that. it's definitely one of my favorites fics to have worked on; a lot of love (and grief) went into it, so it really makes me happy to hear when it's become special to other people as well

it's almost criminal how little there is for Kolivan and Coran and I had been meaning to write something else for them (which I did, I'll link it here if you're interested). I still have some ideas for them, but my writing process can be pretty slow.

again, thank you for reaching out, it made my day <33

[bicsbec]

Player's Guidebook (ao3 link)

Kolivan had a roaring headache. He tried to blink it away, but that only made him dizzy.

“Representative?” Lurok’s stern voice came to him annoyed.

“You’re exceeding my patience, Lurok.”

“I come to you as a concerned citizen. Is this how you intend to keep your job? By neglecting it?”

“Your concern will be revised as soon as possible,” Kolivan gritted out. Lurok seemed smugly satisfied and exited Kolivan’s office at a near strut.

Kolivan shoved the report into a thick file labeled Lurok , where he kept all the poorly concealed militaristic agendas Lurok came up with. Sometimes Kolivan brought the file to Krolia so they could laugh at the increasingly ludicrous veils Lurok came up with over drinks. Krolia kept her own file.

Today, however, Lurok had pressed all the wrong buttons, starting with entering the office with a snarky reminder that it had been his “not too long ago” and ending with an almost blatant accusation of nepotism, Kolivan only having kept the position because of his entanglement with “the Altean bootlicker,” which was all kinds of rich —

Kolivan took a not so calming breath, dragging a hand along his face. The obnoxious beeping of a call came ringing, making his ears flatten. He answered without looking.

“ Darling! Wait—this a bad time? ”

Coran’s voice came like a wave of relief. A small smile pulled at Kolivan’s lips.

“Only a little,” he said, sitting up and opening his eyes.

“ I was just double checking for tonight’s plans. That is, if you’re feeling up for it. ”

Tonight. What had he agreed to again?

“ I certainly wouldn’t want to bore you ,” Coran said hurriedly. He was on the verge of rambling; he was insecure of whatever Kolivan had agreed to.

“You could never bore me, Coranic,” Kolivan said confidently. “Once I’ve finished here, I’ll head over. Don’t fuss so much.”

Coran chuckled, the blush on his cheeks a soft tinted blue through the call. “ Alright. I’ll see you soon, love. ”

“Yes.”

“ Bye-bye. ”

The call ended. He still couldn’t recall what he had agreed to, but he was sure he wouldn’t have done so if he hadn’t found it at least a little interesting. It didn’t really matter. Spending time with Coran always lightened his spirits, seldom a dull moment between them. 

He hurried through the paperwork on his desk, meeting requests and project authorizations and Blade deployments that needed special permissions. His temple throbbed, but he’d be home soon and that was somewhat soothing.

“Rest well, sir,” his secretary, Ubzir, said as Kolivan handed him the outgoing correspondence of the day. 

“I expect to, thank you,” Kolivan said with a half-smile.

It was odd, these courtesies. They were words that had no real use, no purpose other than well-wishing. They were foreign to the Galra tongue, still acclimating to their more recent role in history. It was clunky; it was nice.

* * *

He took a public shuttle to Altea, the thought alone of flying himself over being too exhausting. They dismounted at Pilar C, the closest to the Castle of Lions. The first time Kolivan had stepped foot on Altea, he’d first thought it was nothing short of a miracle. A planet that hadn’t been seen in millennia, had endured only the briefest period of Zarkon’s terror, brought back in a state of near intactness. Its allure wore off eventually, becoming just another on the list of places in need of help. Unremarkable until it wasn’t.

Coran changed all that. The Plaza, the Opera, the gardens, the ruins, the fields; places on a map. Places that now lit up in his head and made him smile. The word home came to mind, but he thought that had more to do with Coran than with Altea. He thought of Daibbazal as home too, but only when he knew Coran was waiting for him back at the apartment. 

Once reaching the castle, Gixu escorted him to Coran’s location, the rec room. It was dark, a group of people huddled around the display panel.

“Rep—uh, Kolivan just arrived, sir,” Gixu announced. Coran shot to his feet, Kolivan could almost feel the enthusiasm emanating from him. It was only a little too much after the day he’d had. Kolivan squared his shoulders and braced.

“Thank you very much, Gixu. You can join us, if you like,” Coran said, walking around the couch with the brightest smile.

“I’d hate to intrude, sir,” Gixu said rather anxiously. 

Coran waved the comment off. “Feel free, honestly. Or maybe next time.”

“Sure thing, sir,” Gixu tried for a smile. Kolivan felt like he should spare her from Coran’s attention.

“You’re free to go,” he said as pleasantly as he could. He wasn’t used to giving out gentle dismissals.

“Thank you,” Gixu said, in a breath that sounded like relief. She hurried out of the room faster than Kolivan expected. 

“Let the poor girl breathe,” he said, gathering Coran up in his arms. 

Coran chuckled, squeezing around Kolivan’s neck. “Sorry. It’s just—the more the merrier.”

“Right.”

“Right,” Coran grinned, melting Kolivan’s heart. He leaned up on the tips of his toes to reach Kolivan’s lips, smiling into the kiss. “Come on, then. Let’s get you settled.”

Huddled around the table were Curtis, Shiro, and Emi. The table itself was functioning as a map, the terrain’s relief projected onto the hologram. Kolivan wondered if he had walked into a Coalition meeting.

“Alright, here’s your interface,” Coran handed him a small screen. “Input your character information and this’ll keep track of your stats, like your health points, spell slots, skill proficiencies, and experience points.”

Kolivan tried to keep his face clear from confusion, trying to put together the missing pieces of information. He used to be a lot sharper, able to quickly find his footing in a foreign scenario. The years were gaining on him. 

“Right,” he said with a facade of confidence. Coran smiled brightly, clearly excited for Kolivan to be there. Kolivan willed himself to put everything together faster.

He sat down next to Emi, studying the map on the table. It wasn’t Coalition. There was no strategy in the position of the figures on the board. There was a die with more sides than Kolivan had ever seen and Curtis was leafing through a book, but Kolivan couldn’t make out the letters on the front.

The figures snagged in his mind. He’d seen them a thousand times maybe, but he couldn’t place them. 

His desk. His eyes had settled on one figure, Coran’s figure, for movements. Back when he’d been given the privilege to accompany Coran during his recovery. Kolivan’s eyes had been free to wander anywhere in that room, but they’d always settled on Coran and the little trinkets that surrounded him. 

The game was Monsters & Mana. He’d asked Coran about the figure once, since it was so different from the rest of his trinkets, and Coran went on a passionate rant about the game he'd played as a boy and even played once with the paladins and Allura. Kolivan had been a little enamored by the way Coran juggled talking and working with his hands or did his engineering calculations without seemingly fumbling either.

“Do you have your character ready?” Emi asked, somewhat timidly.

“Hm?”

He pointed at the screen in Kolivan’s hand. “Do you need help?”

Ever since The Incident, Emi had behaved more unnerved around Kolivan. Kolivan had never thought him to be a nervous man before that, so it wasn’t lost on him that Emi had developed some form of fear towards him. Perhaps he thought Kolivan resentful, which he wasn’t. But he did find the new way Emi jumped around him amusing. 

“Yes,” Kolivan said, genuinely grateful.

“Okay,” Emi smiled, his shoulders relaxing. “With which part?”

“All of it,” Kolivan said in a whispered tone. Emi’s smile reached his eyes, looking back to Coran who was answering Curtis’s barrage of questions. Emi knew now that Kolivan’s affections for Coran weren’t flights of fancy, but it couldn’t have been clearer to him than in that moment.

“Very well,” he nodded, “let’s start with your character class.”

They settled on klazgool, Emi reasoned that it aligned best with Kolivan’s instincts, decision-making during the game would come more naturally that way. The interface filled out a portion of the blanks with klazgools’ average statistics. 

“Name?”

Kolivan raised an eyebrow. “Kolivan?”

“No, no, for your character.”

“Is my name not sufficient?”

“Well, no, of course, it’s perfectly sufficient,” Emi said at a near ramble. “But you can name them something else if you like.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I named mine based around their backstory. Trick comes from a long line of mavens and is the eighth of his name, determined to pass on not only his knowledge, but his name as his fathers before him had done.”

“Is that in the Guidebook?”

“No, I made it up. That’s part of the game.”

“Kolivan,” Curtis called his attention over, “if it helps, I named my character Wimbledon, y’know, after the tennis tournament. I like tennis and it sounds fancy, mage-like. It can be as simple as that.”

“Understatement of the century,” Shiro chuckled. “You love tennis. Wimbledon is—and I’ve heard you say this—the most sophisticated word in your vocabulary.”

Curtis elbowed him playfully. “Well, at least I didn’t name my character Gyro. ”

“Look, technically I didn’t name him, but I stand by the decision made before me,” Shiro said with a shrug. “You can absolutely name your character after yourself, Kolivan. I know I would’ve.”

An echo of his headache was creeping back to his temples. They weren’t even playing yet.

“Look here, love,” Coran said gently, placing the player’s guidebook in his hand. “You can pick from the suggestion list here. Klazgools are natural born warriors with a penchant for traditional names, most have between these five.” 

He knew this meant a lot to Coran and he was determined to show him that he understood that. He wanted to try. 

“Kulda. That’s the name. Kulda the…Loyal, first of his name,” Kolivan offered Coran a smile, handing him back the book. Coran’s marks lit up when he smiled, absolutely endearing.

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Coran asked, taking his seat at the map’s control panel. “Then let the adventure begin!”

As it turned out, Coran had run a small portion of the game already; as the players had arrived, Coran had given them only bits of information. 

First had been Shiro: Gyro’s journey had led him to an old man that required a favor in exchange for information. A favor that took him to the entrance to a cave.

Second had been Curtis and Emi: Wimbledon and his companion, Trick, had been tasked with the retrieval of their town’s leader’s war hammer, their only clue leading them to a haunted mountain.

Finally, it was Kolivan, last to have arrived: Kulda had received a poem a few weeks after his sword, Blackrazor, had been stolen. A calling card from the thief that led him to the village of Yellowreach. The “feathered mound” the poem described was only a few miles away.

Kulda opted to investigate the surrounding area at the foot of the mountain, only to find a mage and maven poking around as well. They soon came upon a paladin at the entrance to the cave where they would “burrow away from the sun.”

Coran briefed them of their mission: each were tasked with the same goal—retrieve the three sentient weapons that had been stolen—and delve into the belly of the volcanic mountain, haunted by the demons and traps left behind by the rumored thief—a mage not seen in thirteen hundred years, having had disappeared into the mountain along with his legion of minions. While their allegiances were tied to different wills and masters, they had to work together to wade through White Plume Mountain and escape with their lives.

Coran took them through the cavern, erecting small armies of creatures to get in their way or setting up trap passages to either kill them or impede their progression. Kolivan noticed a growing frustration in Coran when they proved too clever for his puzzles, evident in the furrow of his brow, the notes he seemed to scratch out and rewrite, and the vengeful difficulty at which the puzzles seemed to increase.

The party wandered into a room of permanent darkness early on. The room was guarded by a creature of the night that preyed on the blood of weary travelers. Gyro executed the beast, finding that the old man’s request was under the creature’s protection as well: a trident, the “wave in need of rescue.” Given the choice to abandon the party, his mission complete, Gyro decided against it, being the noble paladin by their side.

Halfway through Coran’s cavern of madness, they emerge above a boiling lake encased in a bubble. A demonic combination of a puzzle and creature encounter, as Wimbledon and Trick faced an enormous crustacean while diverting all harm that would come to the bubble, the delicate barrier that separated the boiling lake from them. The crustacean’s defeat earned them Whelm, the war hammer they sought “past waterspouts double”. The duo remained with the party, thinking their chances of returning alive better if accompanied by the strength of their companions.

Coran seemed a little irked by the camaraderie the party displayed. 

Toward what must’ve been the end of that hell dungeon, Blackrazor found itself in the hands of a monstrous mage—“remaining to be won”—wielded more like a rod of magic than an actual sword. With the help of the newly rescued weapons, Kulda managed to subdue the crazed mage, but they knew it wasn’t their thief.

“Warily, you retrace your steps,” Coran told them. Kolivan surprisingly found himself tense and anxious, like he was expecting a real-life ambush. “Can you all roll me a skill check, please?”

“Which one?” Shiro asked.

“Stealth.”

“Shit,” Emi mumbled.

“Success or failure, fellas?” Coran prodded. 

“Is fifteen a success?” Shiro asked.

Coran frowned at his notes, Kolivan watching the tendons of his hand flex with the urge to edit something. “Barely.”

“Success,” Kolivan informed.

“Success!” Curtis cheered.

“Oh, quiznak ,” Emi whispered. Coran perked up immediately, ready to savor the words that would follow. “Failure. What happens now?”

 Coran grinned from ear to ear, something sadistic and vindictive in his expression. “Trick, you’ve tripped on the rocky path and triggered something. ”

“I cast Arcane Detection,” Curtis said hurriedly.

“Do you have spell slots left?”

“Yes.”

“Are your hands free? That spell has a somatic component.”

“One hand is enough,” Curtis said, checking his interface.

“Fine, you cast Arcane Detection,” Coran relented. “Your senses are flooded, the magic left by the mage extends itself through every crevice of the mountain. As far as your spell ranges, you can tell the path is laced in traps. Anything else you want to do?”

“Run,” Kolivan said.

“Are you crazy?” Emi looked at him, startled.

“There’s already something we’re unaware of unfolding, I’ve got what I came for and I’m not going to wait around to find out what you triggered,” Kolivan reasoned. “Coran, Kulda is running.”

“Wonderful, you run.”

“No checks?” Shiro asked.

Coran simply shrugged. This was borderline psychological warfare.

The party followed Kulda’s lead. Coran allowed them the false hope of spotting the light at the end of the dungeon’s exit, but something crashed upon Kulda’s shoulders, pinning him to the ground. 

“ I care not, former owners brave, what heroes you seek to hire. Though mighty, I’ll make each one my slave, or send him to the fire, ” a frayed voice croaked. A mage stood before them, features grotesque and stature small, much too young for someone over thirteen hundred years of age. “I, the one and only Keraptis, have waited a long time for your arrival. It seems it’s time I handle you myself.”

Coran straightened in his chair, typing something in his interface. Emi sat up as well, eyes wide and stuck to the screen in his hand.

“Fellas,” Trick said warily, “he’s lying. That can’t be Keraptis.”

“ Roll initiative. ”

The mage grew enraged at the suggestion, eloquent poems and long speeches vanishing in lue of a rampage. Kulda was prone, Wimbledon was down, Gyro had used his last spell slot to heal Trick; it wasn’t looking good for the unlikely companions. 

“I am him, he is me,” the creature rasped in a craze. “There is only one who set the trap to lure in my new legion of minions, and it was me. ”

“You are an impostor,” Trick insisted. “The real Keraptis was a Common-man.”

The creature hissed, lunging at Trick.

“You get a reaction for that, Emi,” Coran informed him.

“Okay, I want to do something, but it might end badly,” Emi said, looking around at the table. “Is that okay?”

“I’m good with that,” Curtis said easily. “These saving throws aren’t looking good.”

“I don’t think it could get that much worse,” Kolivan said with a shrug. “Go ahead.”

Shiro nodded in agreement, clearly still trying to strategize some solution. 

“Alright, I cast Fire’s Wick and I try to hold him in place.”

Coran wrinkled his nose at that. “Roll to grapple, contested.”

“Seven.”

Coran went from gleeful to dismayed. “Four.” Coran took a sharp breath. “Alright, you successfully hold on to him as the fire that was spreading from your hands engulfs him. You watch as he screams and writhes and catches on fire. It is not typical for a creature to be so flammable, but as Trick knows, the legion of minions Keraptis kept was an ill-advised one: mlarks, creatures particularly susceptible to fire, creatures that would surely grow mad and disfigured inside a volcanic mountain such as this one. Keraptis had long passed, the impostor before you a mere echo of his most brilliant minion. An echo that was now becoming a dangerous flame, roaring and consuming. What are you guys doing?”

“Can I run?”

“On the next turn, darling.”

“Well, I’m dying here,” Curtis said.

“Not if I can help it,” Shiro said stubbornly. “I pick up Wimbledon and start running to the exit.”

“Alright,” Coran said, turning to Emi. “You take some fire damage, being so close to the mlark.”

“And earn an exhaustion point,” Emi said, frowning at his interface. “I can’t run.”

 “The flames continue to spread, the heat from the walls rising, Gyro and Wimbledon are out of the cave in this turn if you keep running,” Coran said to Shiro, who nodded. “Love, you can move this turn. With your full range of movement, you can get just outside of the flames, but you can also try to get Trick away from the epicenter. You’ll take fire damage, but it’ll be reduced. What will you do?”

“Whelm and Wave are with Gyro and Wimbledon, right?” Kolivan asked.

“Yes.”

Easy enough. “I’m grabbing Trick and using the movement I have left.”

“Strength check.”

“Christ, Coran,” Curtis complained. It wasn’t even his check to make.

“Numbers, please,” Coran insisted. 

“Twenty.”

“ What? ”

“YES!” Emi nearly leaped out of his seat.

“About damn time,” Curtis huffed.

“Alright, alright. You heroically throw Trick over your shoulder, feeling him lighter than you expected him to be, and manage to get 45 cubes away from the fire instead of 30. The flames lick at your back and you take…two fire damage. Gyro and Wimbledon are now in the safety of the outside. Curtis, how are those saving throws?”

Curtis crossed his arms, somewhat defiant. “I’m telling this part.”

Coran conceded easily.

“As Gyro reaches the mouth of the cave, I see through heavy eyelids the first rays of the morning sun and the shifting colors of the sky as night becomes day. I draw a last peaceful breath as I realize we are out of danger, comforted in the arms of my paladin, and my grip on Whelm goes slack.”

“You died?” Emi whispered like it was a secret. 

“I failed my last saving throw, had two successes and two failures.”

Shiro cleared his throat, lacing his fingers with Curtis’s. 

“Aw, babe,” Curtis chuckled sympathetically, cradling his face with his other hand.

“Sorry,” Shiro sniffed, leaning his forehead against his husband’s. “We can keep playing, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Kolivan averted his eyes, knowing the scene to be rather intimate. He imagined the loss of his companion was a rather sensitive topic for Shirogane. 

“Darling,” Coran got Kolivan’s attention.

“Yes, love?”

“It’s your turn, unless Emi wants to do something?” 

Emi shook his head. 

“I keep running, Coranic. Am I out of the cave yet?”

Coran smiled, one of his kind smiles, and sat up in his seat. “As you make your grand escape, the mlark’s growing flames close behind, you reach the safety of the outside. Victorious in your commissions, Gyro heads out with a heavy heart to deliver the trident to the old man and receive the information he sought, and Trick wanders home, missing his friend but able to complete the mission they had set out together to do. Kulda, both master and slave to Blackrazor’s will and wants, continues his duty to appease the sword and solidify his legacy as the first of his name. And that’s the game.”

“Cheers, Coran,” Emi said, standing up with a stretch. “It was a great game. What hour is it, by the way?”

“Late,” Shiro said through a yawn, looking at his phone. “Super later. Coran, can we stay in my old quarters tonight?”

“You can stay in your quarters whenever, my boy. They’re yours.”

“Alright, well, I’m turning in,” Emi said, stepping around Kolivan. “Goodnight, fellas.”

Shiro and Curtis followed shortly after, leaving Coran to clear the minis from the holographic display and Kolivan leafing through the Player’s Guidebook.

“So, what did you think?” Coran asked with excited curiosity. 

“It was fun,” Kolivan said easily. “I can also see why you’re so adept at battle strategy. I was very impressed.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Coran said, clearly caught off guard.

“You are also a very cruel Lore Master.”

That made Coran laugh. “Yes, I’ve definitely heard that one before.”

“Now, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day,” Kolivan said, leaning over to kiss Coran’s cheek. “I’m not sure if you have any pending matters. Should I wait for you or...?”

“I’ll be right there. I just need to clear the table.” 

“Alright.”

Kolivan slipped heavily into unconsciousness, with only a vague impression that Coran had made it to their bed. The next morning, he woke to find Coran’s side empty. He must have slept in, the exhaustion from the day before a bigger confine than he had realized. 

“He lives,” Coran said from his desk. “I’ve never seen you sleep so much.”

“What’s the time?” Kolivan said, sluggishly sitting up and rubbing his eye. His eyesight was still trying to focus.

“Four hours past sunrise.”

“Hmph, great,” Kolivan stretched and dragged himself out of bed, causing Coran to whistle.

“I love when you don’t sleep with a shirt on,” Coran said with a sigh, making Kolivan chuckle.

“I never wear a shirt to sleep.”

“No, no. There was one time, early in our relationship, maybe the first time you stayed over. Massively disappointing.”

That got a good laugh out of him, making Coran brighten. He walked over to Coran’s desk and pulled a chair closer, crossing his arms and resting his chin on top. Coran’s eyes followed his movements, his hand instinctively reaching out and playing with Kolivan’s ear.

“Any meetings today?” 

“No, just paperwork, processing requests and the like,” Coran said, his eyes skimming over his filer screen. “Hey, I’ve been wondering about something.”

Kolivan’s eyes were closing again, Coran’s fingers digging at some wonderful nerve just past his ear. “Hm? What about?”

“Where did you get the name Kulda?”

Kolivan gave him a questioning look, managing to open one eye. “What do you mean?”

“I love you dearly, you know this, but you’re not the most imaginative man I’ve ever met, Van.”

Kolivan chuckled at that. “Hm, right. It’s a pet name—a pet’s name. I had a fyukl when I was a boy. Ma let me keep it even though feeding it would be difficult. Her name was Kulda. She was a very good girl.”

“A fyukl. I haven’t seen one of those in—”

“Ten thousand years?”

Coran gave him a soft smile, the kind that hid his lips behind his mustache, yet crinkled his eyes. “Give or take, yeah.”

“They were more common on my side of the universe, but even then, they were rare. I haven’t seen one since Kulda.”

“Kulda the Fyukl.”

“First of her name. So, that makes the klazgool second of his name, technically.”

“So, you had fun last night, right?”

Kolivan rose to his elbows and leaned forward, finally kissing the silly man he loved. “Yes,  I had fun.”

He tried to pull away, but Coran held him there, kissing him repeatedly until Kolivan couldn’t help but laugh against his lips.

“You’re sure?”

“I only do things I want to do, Coranic,” Kolivan said, pressing one last kiss to his lips and sitting up. “Speaking of, I’m going to get some breakfast. Have you had any yet?”

“Shiro had left some coffee in the kitchen.”

“ Coran. ”

“ Kolivan. ”

“I’m bringing you something to eat, too,” he said, walking to the dresser and pulling out some clothes.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m going to. Stop complaining.”

Coran relented, knowing that insisting otherwise would only make them go in circles. 

Kolivan was never picky about what was stocked in the kitchen at any given time. He was used to his food being bland and of questionable texture, any diversion from that was always welcome. He leaned on the counter, eating his food while he waited for Coran’s cream to finish heating up.

“Good morning,” Emi said brightly. “Funny how we never run into each other in the kitchen.”

Kolivan nodded politely, still chewing his green slime. He wasn’t sure what the dish was called.

“Hey, I never said thanks for saving me last night,” Emi continued, as he moved to fetch his own breakfast. “I thought your obvious move was to leave me behind.”

“It didn’t feel obvious,” Kolivan said simply. “It’s what you said about instinct. It made decision-making easier.”

“And your instinct was to save me? Why?”

Kolivan scraped the last few bites from the bottom of the bowl and cleaned the dish, before answering: “I have nothing against you, Emi. And it seemed like bad sportsmanship to just leave you.”

“Oh,” was all Emi seemed able to say. “Really? Even after…?”

Kolivan took a breath. He could have all the understanding in the world for the reasoning behind Emi’s actions, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate him.

“You were just doing your job. Like I did my job last night.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good morning, Emi,” Kolivan said, grabbing Coran’s breakfast and heading back to their room.

He set the warm bowl in front of Coran, pushing away his digital filer. Kolivan had already known that it was a particularly difficult task to get Coran away from his work; he'd thought it was an admirable trait at some point. But as he grew to care about Coran, he realized it was more self-destruction than commitment that drove Coran to his work. 

“Kolivan, I told you—”

“Shut up,” Kolivan said, holding him by the jaw and kissing him. “Eat.”

Coran sat back with a blush that was spreading from his cheeks to his ears, his marks glowing lightly. 

“Alright, er, thank you—for, uh, the food.”

“It’s nothing, love.”

“How was your movement? I didn’t get a chance to ask last night,” Coran said, watching Kolivan take a seat at their bed and grab the book by the nightstand. 

“Fine until it wasn’t,” Kolivan said, searching for his spot in the pages. “Lurok had just left when you called yesterday.”

“Oh.” Kolivan didn’t have to look up to know that Coran was wrinkling his nose. “He’s usually harmless, though, right?”

“He remains so, yes. But he’s fucking obnoxious.”

Coran laughed at that.  “Sorry you have to deal with him.”

“Part of the job, unfortunately.”

“Well, I’m all done eating,” Coran said, tilting his bowl for Kolivan to see.

“Good. Let me know when you’re done with paperwork and the like.”

“Why’s that?���

“Believe it or not, I also find it massively disappointing to find you with clothes on in the morning,” he said, closing his book, having had very little left to read.

“Good grief,” Coran breathed out.

“I think I’ll head to the library, find myself something else to read. Pass the time.”

He looked up to find Coran somewhat dumbstruck.

“I’ll see myself out. Leave you to it.”

“Yes, right.”

It was only fair for Kolivan to play Coran’s game last night, following his lead and rules, since Coran had been playing Kolivan’s for far longer. Simple rules and high rewards that kept Coran from burning out from his workload.

Kolivan was sure it wouldn’t take Coran too much time to wrap up with work. And much to his delight, he was usually right.

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 8

Maybe it was the courage left from the nunvill or his fuel to spite Emi or Alfor or whoever he was most furious at currently, but a few vargas later Coran found himself in Daibazaal, standing in front of what he knew to be Kolivan’s apartment. His legs were stiff from the travel over and he was leaning on the door for support. He distantly thought that this wasn’t his brightest idea.

He raised a fist and knocked.

He heard the muffled scrape of a chair and heavy steps approaching. His stomach did a somersault, threating to spill what little contents it still had. Nervousness gripped him, he had no idea what he would say.

The door opened.

It was Kolivan, of course. But it took Coran a tick to recognize him. He looked disheveled, more than in the mornings. Like he hadn’t had a reason to put himself together in quite a few quintants. His braid was loose, his shirt was stained; his pants were undone, like it was easier to keep them that way.

He stood frozen, mouth half opened, like maybe he was about to tell him to piss off. He was switching gears, slower than usual.

“Coran,” he managed, his voice rough with disuse.

“Kolivan.”

He cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, that’s certainly an interesting question—”

Kolivan raised a hand. “Rephrasing: why are you here?”

Kolivan didn’t seem exasperated or angry, but there was something prickly in his tone. Instead of backing down and apologizing, like every instinct was telling him to do, Coran took a step forward. Took a breath.

“I’m here to talk. I want to talk.”

“Has it occurred to you that maybe I don’t?”

“No, honestly.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Coran could almost see the gears turning in Kolivan’s head. Kolivan let out a breath and stepped aside.

Coran took in the small room, one he suspected was usually in strict order. To his left was the kitchen/eating area/office, from what the surfaces told him. Cupboards and a stove, and a counter for eating and working. To his right was the bed and closet, unmade and open, respectively. He assumed the back door was the bathroom, but it was closed.

“Sit wherever,” Kolivan gestured vaguely, stepping over a pile of documents and kicking some clothes under the bed.

“Thank you,” Coran said, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. Kolivan sat across from him, in the only dining chair in the room. The room was so close together that their knees were only a foot apart. Coran briefly wondered how such a big man could live in such close quarters; then he thought that Kolivan was barely in his apartment, only using it when he needed it.

They stayed in silence for a while, just taking each other in. Somehow, Coran had seen this going smoother in his head.

“Well?” Kolivan asked well into their silence, raising an eyebrow. “You said you wanted to talk.”

“Right, I do,” Coran said, finding his voice. “I just…don’t know where to start.”

Kolivan’s face softened, his ears flattening for a moment. “Maybe I can help with that. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“You’re putting your position in the Coalition at risk,” Kolivan’s voice was soft yet somehow stern.

“I know.”

“Your being here won’t help your case.”

“I know.”

Kolivan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, looking at his feet. It didn’t seem he had anything else to say.

“What about you?” Coran asked, his thoughts snagged on Kolivan’s phrasing.

“What about me?”

“Your position, your case. What about them?”

“What does it matter?”

“They’re as important as mine.”

Kolivan looked up, the closest he’d been to Coran since the incident. He smiled, shaking his head and sitting up straight.

“You have always been the better politician. And, before you say anything, I am far more replaceable than you. People are lining up for my seat. You, on the other hand, are irreplaceable.”

“Your insight is invaluable, Kolivan. Even if you don’t see it,” Coran said, resisting the urge to scooch closer.

“Then I suppose that just another reason why you should go home.”

“Is that what you want?”

“What I want… Coran, you know it’s not. I want what’s best for you, even if it doesn’t include me. That’s what I want.”

He’d known this was where Kolivan’s heart had laid from the beginning. As infuriating as his inaction had been, his intentions had always been to look out for Coran. Extracting himself from the picture would be a small consequence for Coran’s overall wellbeing.

“That’s a good thing, then, I think. I suspect you might be what’s best for me. I don’t think I could handle sacrificing so much for a job. Even this job. I’ve done this before and I suffered for it, even if I didn’t want to admit it. I’m not doing it again.”

Kolivan’s shoulders relaxed, the set of his brow eased. It was like Coran’s words made him lighter.

“What about the investigation?”

“I was going to file in a report eventually,” Coran shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure…”

“Make sure what?” Kolivan asked, leaning forward on his elbows again.

“Make sure what we had was a working relationship, not just attraction,”

“And what do you think?” Kolivan’s lips quirked, like he was trying not to smile.

“I think I would’ve filed a report tomorrow, if Emi hadn’t gotten ahead of us,” Coran said, leaning forward as much as he dared.

Kolivan grinned in earnest and brought his forehead to Coran’s.

“I owe you an apology, then,” Kolivan said, taking Coran’s face in his hands. “I thought I was doing what was best. I had no idea how wrong I was.”

“Sometimes you have to lead with your heart, not your head,” Coran said, finally smiling.

“I’ll make note of that. I promise, love.” The nickname melted Coran’s heart, making him surge forward and kiss Kolivan.

His heart was full and warm, and he realized he had no idea that lips could be something he’d miss. Kolivan leaned forward, his lips eager and lingering. Coran wanted to pull him closer and keep him there. He wanted his only problems to be figuring out how to fit perfectly against Kolivan’s figure and how to sleep through Kolivan’s rumbling snores. He wanted to wake up with Kolivan’s heat beside him, he wanted… He wanted small, wonderful moments for however long it made sense, for however long he could have them. His heart was set on Kolivan. As perplexing as that might’ve been at some point, it was the only thing that made sense in his head now.

That night, he stayed in Daibazaal. And he hoped he could stay beside Kolivan for as long as he could.

* * *

There was a horrible pinging noise coming from somewhere in the room. Coran burrowed further into the bedsheets, grumbling as he pressed a pillow over his head. Weight shifted on the mattress and there was a dull thud and a curse. The pinging continued.

Coran sat up, disoriented and sour. He could make out Kolivan’s figure picking something up from the floor.

“Kolivan!” Coran hissed. “Turn that off.”

“It’s your filer,” Kolivan hissed back. “Here.”

Kolivan tossed the screen over to Coran, which he didn’t even attempt to catch. I landed on his lap, still pinging away. The caller ID read Number Five. Coran ran a hand over his face before answering, wiping away his frown. The screen changed to reveal the caller’s face.

“Pidge!” he greeted, trying not to cringe at the idea of his likely disheveled state.

“Hey, Coran,” Pidge said with a smile. They looked a little distracted, like there was a lot going on around them. “Just wanted to let you know that Shiro will be arriving first, I have a couple of things I need to wrap up with Matt over here.”

“Okay?” Coran said, willing his brain to wake up faster. What was she talking about? Kolivan crawled back into bed, his weight tipping Coran to the side when he slumped down on his side.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Uh, yes. I’m trying to gather my thoughts.”

“Coran, what day is it?”

“Hm, I…I’m not sure.”

“It’s the 14th, Coran,” Kolivan mumbled.

“Is someone with you?” Pidge asked, angling her head, as if that would help get her a better view.

“The 14th? Wait, the 14th?! Pidge, what time is it?”

“In Altea? Almost noon, I think. Coran, how are you not up yet?”

Coran dropped the screen on the bed, bouncing over Kolivan. “I gotta go, Pidge! Talk soon! Darling, end the call, please.”

Coran was yanking his clothes from where he’d hung them the night before, only hearing, “Wait, is that Koli—” before slamming the bathroom door closed and rushing through his routine. He had finally managed to set his hair into place when Kolivan walked into the bathroom.

“Expect a plausibly uncomfortable conversation with the short Holt when they get here,” was Kolivan’s way of greeting as he moved to brush his teeth.

“Noted,” Coran said, stepping away from the sink, but still playing with his hair.

“You look composed, love,” Kolivan said through his toothbrushing. “You should hurry out.”

“Yes, I know; you’re right.” Coran straightened his suit, taking one last look in the mirror and kissing Kolivan’s cheek on his way out.

“I’ll catch up with you later today,” Kolivan called.

“Yes, thank you, darling! Take your time!” Coran called back before exiting the room. He’d slept through half of the day, he needed to get ahead of it however he could. He’d kick himself later for forgetting about Allura’s day.

“Alright, get a hold of yourself, old boy,” he said to himself, tapping his forehead. “First things first, who’s already here.”

He strode over to the map room, looking up the biometrics within the castle. He saw that the wormhole was open, but no shuttle had come through yet. It was probably for Shiro. Keith and Lance were within castle grounds, near Melenor’s garden. There was no sign of Hunk, Romelle, or Pidge yet.

“Alright, I’ll just fetch the boys, round up a few more hands, and everything should be fine,” Coran said, combing his mustache and shaking out his hands.

He wasn’t expecting the odd expression the boys had when he found them. Keith seemed frustrated and worried, but Lance had a look of glee, very much like the one he wore when he was about to tease someone. They both seemed to be directed at him.

“Boys! It’s been a while,” Coran said, trying to ignore the looks on their faces.

“Hey, Coran,” Keith’s smile was weak, but he still hugged Coran like he always did: strong and reassuring. When he pulled away his look of concern was back. “Mom told me you and Kolivan got suspended. What’s that about?”

“Oh,” Coran hadn’t expected to deal with the topic so soon. Much less without Kolivan present.

“You two, of all people, getting suspended? You used to yell at me for kicking up my feet on the table. Not to mention how no-funny-business Kolivan is,” Lance said, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “What on Earth did you do?”

“He’s been all too excited about this,” Keith said, shaking his head and elbowing Lance.

“Grandpas One and Two got in trouble, mi vida,” Lance said defensively. “And you expect me to be normal about it? Hell no.”

Coran chuckled. “Grandpa? No need to throw my age at my face like that, Lance. Unless you two have any children for us to call grandkids.”

“W-wha—uh, um,” Lance fumbled. Keith started laughing.

“Don’t do that to him, Coran,” Keith chuckled, throwing an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “His mother’s already bad enough.”

“Ay, viejita,” Lance mumbled, shaking his head. “So, how ‘bout it, Coran? What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, realistically,” Coran said, crossing his arms. Keith raised an eyebrow at that. Coran huffed. “I—we were just…involved.”

“Involved? In what?” Keith asked. Lance snorted.

“Each other, I think,” Lance said with a smirk.

“Involved romantically,” Coran amended, ignoring how warm his face felt. “So crass.”

“Wait, with Kolivan?” Keith asked. Lance patted his cheek in mock consolation.

“Ay, mi amor. Older people have needs, too.”

“Lance!” Keith snapped and Coran scolded. But Lance was laughing.

“Good on you for getting some, Coran,” Lance said patting his shoulder and winking. “And getting a nice vacation out of it.”

It was Coran’s turn to sputter. “Th-that’s a gross misrepresentation of what happened, Lance. Now,” Coran straightened his suit, trying to compose himself, “you boys are going to help me set up.”

“And why’s that?” Lance asked, almost like he knew the answer.

“I overslept,” Coran answered indignantly.

“Hell, yeah you did,” Lance clapped a hand on Coran’s back. “C’mon, Keith.”

“I’m so sorry about him,” Keith said as they walked back to the castle.

Coran sighed but managed a smile. “Oddly enough, I had missed Lance’s relentless teasing. I’m just not used to being the focus.”

“He’ll drop it soon enough,” Keith said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, mi vida,” Lance sing songed.

Dinner ran smoothly, Shiro, Lance, Keith, and Coran finishing the overall set up just as the others arrived. It was beyond wonderful to see them all in the same place again. They’d been through so much, yet they still managed to stick together, even if it was for short periods of time every deca-phoeb. They laughed and reminisced, joked and visited old spots in the castle. They stayed as late as they could, savoring every tick of each other’s presence.

They’d brought out the drinks—and Shiro’s water—pouring one after the other telling stories and laughing up a riot, when Kolivan approached their table outside. Coran remembered he had promised to catch up with him, but it was only now that he saw him.

“Hey, where’ve you been?” Coran asked him, making everyone turn toward the new person.

“I thought I’d give you some time. This day has always been for you and your family.”

“You’re family,” Keith blurted, sitting up straighter in his chair. Kolivan smiled at that.

“Be that as it may, this was Allura’s family. I have no delusions about being a part of it,” Kolivan said.

“Did Kolivan just smile?” Hunk whispered loudly to Pidge. They just waved him off, watching between him and Coran as carefully as they could. They were trying to catch something.

Coran give Pidge an easy catch. “You can sit down, love. Have a drink. You’re more than welcome.”

“More than welcome!” Lance echoed with a little too much enthusiasm. Coran’s eyes wandered toward Pidge, whose eyes were as wide as he’d ever seen them.

“Thank you,” Kolivan said, taking the seat next to Coran.

“Since when?” Pidge asked, seemingly out of nowhere to the rest of the table.

“Three phoebs,” Coran said, taking a sip from his drink. “’S why we’re suspended.”

“Three phoebs,” Lance repeated. “And we didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?” Hunk asked, looking disoriented as he glanced around the table. Shiro seemed to be quietly enjoying how the events were unfolding.

“Coran and Kolivan are a thing,” Lance supplied. “An item, if you will.”

Kolivan raised an eyebrow at the phrase but didn’t interject. Coran’s head was too fuzzy to mind much of whatever came out of Lance’s mouth. The rest of the evening was spent half answering questions, half scolding Lance for prying too much into the details of their relationship. Coran was happy to finally be able to tell his family about the man that brought him joy, the man that made him realize he needed to start living again.

* * *

The breeze brought over the smell of juniberries, soft and sweet. They were supposed to meet at their tree, the oldest one in the field. Kolivan seemed to be running late.

Today’s meeting had been as exhausting as all the others, sitting before the board members, enduring invasive questions, and undergoing exhaustive interrogation regarding motives for passing treaties or approving funds for the last three phoebs.

Coran sat down, leaning his head against the trunk of the tree, shaking his head. The questions were draining, leaving him irked and jaded.

“You look tired,” a voice came, making him jump. It was Kolivan. “Sorry.”

Coran waved him off. “You’re fine. Sit.”

“How was the meeting?”

“Terrible. I wish you could be in there as well,” Coran said, leaning on Kolivan’s shoulder. Kolivan sighed; Coran felt him nod against his head.

“These quintants have been nice, though,” Kolivan said. “Not having to worry about saying the wrong thing, rubbing someone the wrong way. A nice respite.”

“They have,” Coran smiled. He straightened out his leg and dug around his pocket. “I’ve been meaning to show you something.”

Coran held out the little chest. He pulled away from Kolivan to see his face. Kolivan wore an amused smile, like he’d almost forgotten about the endearing little box.

“Is this what you wanted to show me that day?”

Coran nodded. “Do you want to open it?”

Kolivan took it into his hand, swiping the lever with a single finger. The lever opened smoothly. “Do you know what’s inside?”

“I’ve no idea, love. I wanted to open it with you.”

“A sweet sentiment,” Kolivan kissed his cheek. With that, Kolivan lifted the small lid. The chest had a cushioned interior, the fabric dull with age. Pressed against the cushion was what Coran could only think to describe as a locket. With all his vast knowledge in cultures and trinkets alien to him, Coran had no idea what this was.

Kolivan scooped it out gently, holding it to the evening light. He looked like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

“You know this.”

“I thought they were gone,” Kolivan said, turning the piece over in his hand. “They’re traditional Galran smithery, goldsmithery to be precise. Before we were—before Zarkon. They’re called Blood Houses. My mother used to make them.”

“What was it for?”

“They’d be engraved with names, for families or newlyweds. They held generations of names within its doors,” he said, opening up the locket. It was blank, save for a small line script that followed the edge of the left side. It was stylized type, Coran’s eyes not being able to discern much.

“What does it say?”

“What they should all say: Victory and Death. Victory in having lived. Death in our graces. It was a reminder for all families, to remember the things that truly mattered—family and those you love. It’s an ancient philosophy, clearly.”

“It’s blank,” Coran said, running a finger over the surface.

“Wonderful observation, darling.”

Coran snorted at the phrase.

“It must’ve been stored away for some newlyweds, kept in this little chest. Or it could’ve been one of the last ones made,” Kolivan mused. “They were fairly popular back home. Ma had made one for us, it was smaller than this. Just for us two. It’s…a shame I don’t have it with me, now that I think about it.”

“Well, if I may be so bold,” Coran said, gently taking the Blood House from Kolivan, “I think I know what we can do with this one.”

Kolivan looked over at him, eyes bright and smiling. He leaned over and captured Coran’s lips with his own, a sweet kiss that made Coran’s stomach warm.

“I think so, too,” Kolivan said, pressing his forehead against Coran’s.

They watched the sun go down for the remainder of their evening. Coran had been right in his original assessment—sunsets were enchanting with Kolivan. It was like he’d been made to enhance the gentle things in life, the soft motions of the universe. It was possible that Kolivan didn’t remember gentleness, but he knew it, he was it.

Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe had loved many things throughout his life. He had loved singing, he had loved being of service to his kingdom, he had loved Allura and her father. He’d thought he’d led a satisfying life, content in what little indulgences he’d allowed himself. He’d thought his heart was full, with no space to love anew. Much less would he have thought to love a Galra. But Kolivan had enraptured his heart, with small smiles and endearing questions.

Coran had loved many things, continued to love a few, even. But Kolivan was something he thought unfathomable in his old age—new love, just as brilliant and charming as his first, neither overshadowing the other. Kolivan was the happiness Coran never expected to find along the way and he could never have been more grateful for eventualities.

pt. 1 | < pt. 7

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 7

He wasn’t sure when they fallen into their routine, but once they were truly comfortable around each other, they’d molded their schedules around the other’s. They danced around their rules, blurring edges here and there, and continued to work together in the Coalition, still very much capable of carrying out their jobs. 

There was a knock at his door, but it opened without his response.

“Coran, I have a question,” Kolivan entered, pushing the door open with his back, eyes focused on the screen in his hands.

“Yes, mm—uh, my friend?” Coran almost hadn’t caught the rest of Kolivan’s party, Krolia and Aihpos. Kolivan had gotten used to entering Coran’s spaces whenever he pleased. He gave him a look.

“Apologies,” Kolivan said, the only sign of his slipup the way his neck tensed. “Are you busy right now?”

“I’m never too busy for the Daibazaal delegation, what was the question?”

Only Krolia had given them an odd look, but she refrained from bringing it up.

They managed to stay away from dubious lines for the most part. Even on the scarce lazy mornings they shared when Kolivan stayed over. It wasn’t a habit they kept, but every once in a while, it was far too late for Kolivan to fly back to Daibazaal without running the risk of driving his shuttle into the ground. Kolivan was a firm believer in manual flying, autopilot not a word in his vocabulary.

That morning, Coran woke up to an irritating pinging that was far too close to his ear.

“What the hell is that,” Coran grumbled, peaking his head up from under the blankets. He squinted against the light to find Kolivan sitting up beside him only in his underwear, focused entirely on the digital screen in front of him. Coran would’ve honestly enjoyed the view if he hadn’t woken up with a new disposition for murder. The only sign Kolivan showed of acknowledging Coran’s comment was the finger he held up to his lips. He pressed a button on screen and the pinging stopped.

“Kolivan! Hello!” a voice said from the screen. Coran ducked under the blankets with a start. Quiznak!

“Where’s Keith? The call came from his device.”

“He asked me to call you. I don’t think he thought you’d pick up this fast.”

“It’s morning over here, Lance. I’d rather not hear an incessant beeping so early.”

“Here, take it up with him.” There was a shuffling sound. “Kolivan,” the voice changed to Keith’s, “sorry to call so early. I got your request this morning. I can spare Zethrid and some other legs. Did you have someone in mind?”

“Zethrid and whomever you can spare will suffice. I’m sure Hicif will be glad to have an extra hand.”

“Agreed. I’ll send them their way in the next few quintants. Over and out.”

The call seemed to end, making Coran untense.

“I apologize for waking you up,” Kolivan said, lifting the blanket to get a look at Coran. “I wasn’t expecting a call to come through.”

Coran sat up, looking over at the screen in Kolivan’s hand and combing his mustache. “What were you doing at this hour?”

“Working on the funding proposal for tomorrow’s meeting. Aihpos has been insistent that Daibazaal can’t take the brunt of funding Hicif’s relief all th—”

Coran placed a hand over Kolivan’s mouth, taking the screen and tossing it to the foot of the bed. “That’s enough out of you.”

Kolivan removed his hand. “But—”

Coran sat up on his knees and straddled Kolivan’s lap. “We have rules, my love.”

“Hm, rules, yes,” Kolivan’s eyes raked over him, his hands settling at his waist. “But you asked.”

“Just say work and I’ll drop it,” Coran said, resting his hands on his shoulders.

“Work,” Kolivan said, his voice thick and rumbly, his eyes and hands drinking Coran in with their wandering.

Coran sighed, giving himself a moment to take in Kolivan. Before these rare mornings, Coran had no idea that Kolivan’s red markings weren’t limited to his face. They ran down his neck, to his back and snaked around to accent his hips. In the deca-phoebs that Kolivan hasn’t had to fight for his life every quintant, he had gotten softer around the edges. What used to be lean muscle now had a nice healthy layer of fat, pliant to the touch. 

Coran ran a hand over his bare chest, savoring the luxury of being in liberty to just touch. He felt how Kolivan’s chest rose, how he was gathered in his arms, hands running up under his shirt. His heart picked up the pace when he felt the bulge that poked at his thigh. He raised an eyebrow at Kolivan, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kolivan said, rolling his hips. “You’re the one sitting on it.”

Coran took a sharp breath and laughed, not fairing much better himself. “That’s true,” Coran said, wiggling in his seat. With a groan, Kolivan brought his mouth to Coran’s throat, his tongue bringing attention to the spots he knew reduced Coran to hitched breaths and soft moans. Anything that remained of his cocky attitude flew out the window when Kolivan picked him up and leaned forward, pressing his back against the mattress. Warmth swirled in Coran’s stomach and shot down between his legs, his fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders and toes curling when Kolivan tugged his earlobe with his teeth. Then, a sharp, numbing pain overtook his senses.

“Quiznaking—Kolivan, hold on,” Coran’s voice came out strained, pushing him away by the shoulders. Kolivan immediately sat back on his knees, trying to assess the situation.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Ye—no, I—it hurts, just give me a dobosh,” Coran slowly stretched his knees, stiff from the weight he’d been placing on them before. “I’m just not as lithe as I used to be is all.”

“Are you sure?” Kolivan helped him straighten his legs and pulled him up so he could sit back on his hands.

“Yes, darling,” Coran sighed. “Just stiff joints.”

“Well,” Kolivan chuckled and leaned over to kiss his cheek, “that’s not the only stiff thing around here.”

Coran laughed. “Yes, that’s quite the conundrum we have.”

There was a knock at Coran’s door. This morning knew no peace.

“Mr. Smythe?” it wasn’t a voice Coran could immediately recognize.

Kolivan nearly stumbled out of bed, rushing to hide in the bathroom. Coran had to bite back a laugh. He took a tick to calm down and recuperate from his different cases of stiffness and stood up, walking over to the door.

“Who is it?” he asked, pulling on his lounging robe.

“Gixu, sir.”

Gixu? Gixu. Ah, the intern.

He opened the door and found the young intern smiling brightly.

“Good morning, sir. Emi sent me over to ‘confiscate’ your digital filer. His words, not mine,” she said quickly.

“What for?” he asked, turning to scan the surface of his desk.

“He said he had a meeting with one of the Galra representatives. The scary handsome one.”

“Kolivan?” He felt himself blush at the description, not wanting to admit to himself how much he’d thought it at some point. He didn’t often hear other people’s impression of Kolivan. He shook out his hands, walking over to sit at his desk.

“That’s the one,” Gixu said brightly. Coran pulled open the drawer with a sigh of relief.

“Here it is,” he picked up the filer and handed it to Gixu.

“Thank you, sir. Um… I was instructed to threaten you with not working today, but that feels wrong,” she said with some apprehension.

Coran chuckled. “You can tell Emi I got the message.”

“Have a good day, sir.” And his door slid closed.

He made his way over to the bathroom and the door opened for him. He found Kolivan halfway through buttoning up his shirt. He looked up, his eyes darting to the direction of the bedroom door.

“Are they gone?” he whispered.

“Yes, you scary-handsome devil,” Coran chuckled. Kolivan raised an eyebrow at him, pulling him by the tied sash. “That’s how Gixu referred to you, ‘the scary handsome one’. She came by to get Emi my digital filer. For your meeting with him.”

“Right,” Kolivan said and lifted Coran easily, placing him on the counter. “At what time was that again?”

“Just after lunch,” Coran said, finishing Kolivan’s buttons and smoothing out his shirt. It was a bit crumpled from laying on the floor all night.

“So, what I’m hearing is…” Kolivan said, stepping between Coran’s legs and hooking them around his waist, “…that I can stay a little longer?”

“You could,” Coran said, a slight shiver running down his spine at Kolivan’s words. “But not much longer if you want to make it look like you didn’t spend the night in the castle.”

“I suppose,” Kolivan sighed, an ear twitching in frustration. Coran chuckled, pulling Kolivan towards him by the jaw, kissing him briefly. He could feel Kolivan smiling against his lips. Ancients, that’s cute.

“I’d been meaning to ask, do you have any tips for dealing with Emi?” Kolivan said, stepping away from Coran to tuck in his shirt.

“Rules, Kolivan,” Coran said, hopping off the counter.

“Darling, I only want to get along with him,” Kolivan said, wrapping his arms around Coran from behind.

“You really like to butter me up, don’t you?”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

He squawked out a surprised laugh, blushing feverishly. “Last night was very much not about work. Now get going.”

“Alright,” Kolivan chuckled and kissed Coran’s cheek. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Coran sat at his bedroom desk most of the day, tinkering with his little box. Sometimes he forgot that he actually wanted to fix it, enjoying the task over his end goal. It was calming, trying to delicately undent that metal latch. Coran’s mind often wandered as his fingers worked away, roaming through new ideas and old memories.

He found it a disappointing surprise when the lever loosened, and the latch gave way.

Even with that feeling of disappointment, there was this tantalizing curiosity that overcame him, wondering what could be inside the little chest. What little self-control he had decided that he would open it with Kolivan, so he could appreciate how a little care goes a long way with these kinds of objects…and because something in his chest felt like it would be wrong to open it without Kolivan, who had seen him work away at the box. He decided to polish the latch instead, shining away all the scratches he’d managed to inscribe on the piece of brass.

It wasn’t often he got the afternoons by himself, with no projects to keep his mind busy. He went about to polishing the last details of Allura’s day, making sure that all the Paladins could come. The quintant was nearing, and the usual wave of nostalgia was settling over him. It had been so often that’d he’d found himself loving Allura, that he could hardly differentiate her from his own flesh and blood these days.

Coran had had back-to-back meetings that day. He was exhausted from dealing with snobby monarchs that demanded Altea’s aid, not because of necessity but because of caprice. Melenor had instructed him to check on the Princess as soon as he was done for the day. His days were never truly over.

He hurried over to the places she liked to lurk by but found them vacant. He wandered into the map room, looking to locate her through the castle biometrics but found her there instead.

“Princess,” he said by way of announcing himself. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh, hello, Coran,” she said glancing over her shoulder with her bright eyes.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, nothing at all,” she said, turning back to the map she’d been looking over. Her shoulders were tense and her posture set, much like Melenor when anxiety was eating at her.

“You know, there’s not much you can hide from me, Princess,” Coran said, stepping next to her.

She sighed with a tired smiled on her lips. “I know. Perhaps we share the same concerns.”

“What would those be?”

“Altea’s future. Will it now be as neighboring kingdoms’ glorified security guards? How did we get to this point?”

Her concern had been the main reason behind his monster headache that morning. The universe seemed to be in a good place. Even with Alfor as the right hand of Voltron, conflicts were minimal, Altea’s true diplomatic effect only appreciated in dire confrontation. They’d been idle in their work, not much work to be done in the first place. ‘Glorified security guards’ was, if anything, an undignified position to be in, after having been own as Peacekeepers. He had to remind himself that this was probably the best problem to have, even if it meant tolerating the bluntness and ignorance of their privileged neighbors.

He reminded her as much.

“We could be doing so much more, Coran,” she insisted. “We could be extending a helping hand to those beyond our system.”

“That’s what the King is doing.”

“But what of when he leaves? What happens to those people then? Father thinks ahead, but not…” She seemed to deflate. “Never mind.”

“I’m not him, Allura,” he ventured to say. “I won’t dismiss your words.”

She turned to look at him, something akin to gratitude and invigoration in her eyes. “Father, and I don’t mean to speak out of turn, doesn’t think of eventualities, he thinks of steps. But not consequences.”

Coran nodded. “That is a blind spot that has ailed your father for many deca-phoebs.”

“Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“It is not my job to tell His Majesty how to rule.”

“It is your job to help him.”

“If he so desires that help.”

“Well, I would,” she said, leaning into his side for a moment. He turned to her, surprised at her words, the implication behind them.

“You look forward to ruling, Princess?”

“Only when the time comes,” she said with a laugh. “And I would love to have you by my side.”

“Of course, Princess,” he beamed with pride, flattered and immensely relieved to see this new side of Allura. “Till the very end.”

He’d had no idea then exactly how he’d make good on that promise, but nonetheless, he had. Now, these days of celebration felt like an extension of that promise. That was one of the rare memories of Allura he hadn’t shared with anyone, even after all these deca-phoebs. He was incredibly protective of it, something about her confiding in him instead of her own father… It was his memory to keep.

Coran made his way over to his office, looking for the contact information he kept on the Paladins.

“Coran!”

The shout made him freeze. He turned to find Emi, with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“It’s a free day,” Emi said.

“Yes, I know.”

“No office, you can get to it tomorrow.”

“Alright, boy. Stop your hovering.”

From behind Emi, someone took a step into the hallway; Kolivan.

He gave a short nod, saying, “Coranic.”

Nowadays, the ‘title’ didn’t make him unbearably flustered. It made him have to suppress a giddy smile, his face warm with the unapologetic affection he felt from a single word.

“Kolivan, good to see you,” he said, trying his best not to show his hand.

“Please excuse us, Coran. We have a meeting. Don’t touch that office,” Emi said, turning down the hall toward one of the meeting rooms.

He did touch the office.

When dinner time rolled by, he found himself waiting by the courtyard where he usually met up with Kolivan for dinner. He’d made sure that he had the chest safely tucked away in his pocket. He always looked forward to dinners with Kolivan, but tonight he was thrumming with excitement.

The sound of familiar footsteps reached his ear and immediately ducked his neck to dig around his pocket for the box.

“Darling, you’ll never guess what I managed today,” he said, his voice dying in his throat when he finally looked up to find Kolivan, accompanied by Emi.

A swirl of warm dread settled in his stomach. Emi gave Coran a perplexed look.

“What do you mean ‘darling,’ who were you expecting?” Emi asked. An agonizing beat of silence passed, Emi looking between them, not really believing what his mind put together. “You said you had dinner plans with Coran,” Emi said after a moment. Like the idea finally settled in his head. “Are you two involved? How are you two involved?”

“I can explain,” Coran said, without much explanation planned in his head. Every single justification for his behavior, every excuse he’d come up with, every word that had soothed his anxiety over the secrecy of their relationship had evaporated on the spot.

“Does Diplomatic Relations know about this?”

“No, but—”

“Coran, what are you doing? What were you thinking?”

Kolivan’s jaw was set. His fists were clenched. His posture was tense. He had no control over what was unfolding, and he hated it. His eyes kept darting between Coran and Emi, calculating his next move. He settled on speaking up. 

“Allow us to speak our pie—”

“How long has this been going on?” Emi cut him off.

“Since the gala,” Kolivan said without missing a beat.

Coran was frozen, the dread that swirled in his stomach bubbling up and strangling him. It didn’t feel like this was happening to him, Emi’s tone slipped through his chest like oil mixing with water, the threatening aura that Kolivan gave off was familiar in a distant way. Like he’d almost forgotten this was the Kolivan he had met, forgotten he knew this side of him as well.

“Coran, I have to report this,” Emi said. “I can’t just know about this and do nothing.”

This can’t be happening.

“What are the proceedings?” Kolivan asked, hints of his tampered temper in his voice.

It was a slipup. A single word I could’ve keep to myself.

“Suspension for you both, until the case can be evaluated, until it can be determined that your involvement was not a factor of bias and proposals weren’t favored due to it. If there is evidence of such influence, then its expulsion. Your relationship will be under severe scrutiny.”

This cannot be happening.

“And until then?”

“I don’t know, that’s up to you. My recommendation is to stop seeing each other if you care at all for your seats at the Coalition. It’ll be easier going forward. Excuse me.”

Their eyes followed Emi as he exited the courtyard, hoping that he’d at least take the heavy atmosphere with him. He didn’t.

A chill of embarrassment came from Coran’s temple and seeped into his gut. Kolivan stepped toward him, placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Coran hated his hesitance.

“What do you want to do?”

“Not deal with this. I—I need this to not be happening.”

“It’s happening, my love. It turns out we didn’t need to plot the mice’s death, it was Emi’s,” Kolivan said, trying to get a smile out of Coran. Coran’s lip quirked weakly.

“I don’t know what to do. The last thing I want is to choose between you and the Coalition.”

“I can make it an easier decision, if that’s what you need.”

“No, I want—” he heard himself, he was being selfish, but he followed through. “I want you to stay.”

“Coran—”

“Please, just stay, I don’t care if it’s easier if you didn’t,” Coran stood, reaching for Kolivan’s cheek.

He could see that Kolivan was debating utility over sentimentality. He could see how he was measuring out what the best course of action was. Coran was scared of what Kolivan would settle on as the best outcome. 

“I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Coran’s stomach dropped. He’d really hoped Kolivan’s cynicism wouldn’t play a role in this decision.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I should go.”

“You could stay for dinner.”

“I could,” Kolivan smiled, hugging Coran tightly.

“You could stay a little longer,” Coran’s voice cracked, he swallowed through the lump forming at his throat.

“I could,” Kolivan whispered, and Coran heard the softest sniffle.

Kolivan didn’t stay for dinner.

* * *

The movement that followed had been a blur fury and nunvill. Kolivan stayed away and so did most people in the castle. Only Emi had the courage and gall to check in on Coran every so often.

He was angry at himself for not reporting their relationship sooner, angry at Emi for not giving him the opportunity to do so, angry at Kolivan for falling into old habits and not standing up for them, angry at himself for not fighting harder.

His anger was an obsessive spiral, going through that damned moment over and over again, changing how he reacted, changing what he said, willing Kolivan to do more, willing Emi to not connect the dots. He grew sick of the scene, of his thoughts, of his anger. He’d turned it over in his head so many times it made him nauseous and dizzy. He wanted to stop.

Mostly he was furious because he had been a coward. Deep down, he’d thought that his relationship with Kolivan had a limit, he had placed a timer on his own happiness, he self-sabotaged. Because when the time came, he thought maybe three phoebs had been too much to ask for, like they’d gotten away with murder, he thought he’d indulged himself, he thought this is the end of the line. He thought it was about time.

He wondered at what point in his life he’d decided that his happiness would be secondary to everything else. Then he remembered. It had been Alfor. That stupid, wonderful man, somehow still screwing him over, even in death.

“Blast you to hell, You Majesty,” Coran grumbled to his empty room, bitter beyond belief.

He remembered those bright eyes, that stupid smile.

Somedays… somedays I wish you’d open that already.

To hell with it.

He stomped out of his room straight to his office. Emi would have the earful of his life if he tried to stop Coran. He spotted the Secret Keeper from across the room. A sick sort of excitement swirled in his stomach when he realized…he’d get to hear Alfor again. That gave him some pause if any.

His rage diluted with every step he took closer to the thing. Until he was just left with the fear that always gripped him whenever the thought of opening it crossed his mind. What secret could Alfor have that would destroy the Altean Hierarchy? What was so bad that he had to be dead for Coran to hear it? He always thought there were no secrets between them, except for the one he kept to himself. He never gave this a second thought. It wasn’t real. It just wasn’t.

He took the cube into his hand, his stomach giving a sickening swoop. The cube was heavier than he remembered, he barely handled the thing. He placed his hand on top, taking a breath before—

twist.

His heart thumped at the sound of static, the anticipation of what he would hear next. Even if it was Alfor’s deepest darkest secret, it was Alfor. That alone was comfort enough.

“Coran!” he sounded cheerful and young. The enthusiasm Coran often saw behind closed doors. Tears prickled at his eyes. “Knowing you, I’m probably dead by the time this reaches you. Or maybe it’s tomorrow. I can only hope it’s tomorrow,” his tone was soft, like it was fueled by yearning and rosiness.

He laughed. Alfor laughed, too. Silent tears began streaming down his face. He wished he could see Alfor’s expression.

“Know it’s not, though. You’ve always been dependable like that. I’m nervous, Coran. About the coronation, about what Mother expects of me, of…the secret I’ve kept. If there is a person alive who must know it, it’s you. Of that much, I’m sure.”

Coran could hear the breath Alfor had taken then. He sounded nervous, but headstrong. Just like he remembered him.

“There are rules I can’t change that I wish I could. If I did, it would likely change the structure of the Altean Hierarchy as we know it. I’m too much of a coward to do that. But I can leave this instead. Um, I love you, Coran.”

Coran’s breath stopped as he heard Alfor chuckle.

“Feels weird to say it to a cube… Feels fantastic to say it aloud. I suspect you might feel the same way, but that could be my overly hopeful imagination. I’ve loved you since…Ancients, I’m not sure. But I was a coward and a good prince. I suspect I will continue to be a coward, but this time, with the crown of a king. Forgive me. I’ll see you tomorrow. I hope.”

That was it. The cube went silent and collapsed in Coran’s hand. That was it.

A storm began to brew in Coran’s chest. It hiccupped with a sob and rumbled with a grouse.

That was it? The big bad secret? He loved me? Coward. Bastard.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that now?! What possessed you to think this was the way to do it?”

What was left of the Secret Keeper smashed against his office wall, right by Alfor’s bloody window. Screw this.

There had been so many moments throughout their lives where Alfor could’ve said something, anything. Well before Melenor came into the picture. Well before they had Allura. The information made him want to reframe his interactions with Alfor, view them in a new light. His brain was already working ahead of him.

He cradled his head in his hands. “Stop.”

What good will it do?

Alfor was dead, the time they had together was spent, and Coran had made his peace with it. Had convinced himself he’d been content. But he hadn’t been. The thought of a different outcome to his life was infuriating, left him with an overwhelming feeling of impotence. A life where he could’ve been happy, damn the consequences. A life where restraint wasn’t his defining trait. A life where his affection toward another wasn’t inconvenient. He’d been denied that.

And he was about to deny it to himself all over again.

He deserved better than that. Kolivan deserved better than that. So what if it was messy? So what if their relationship would be questioned constantly, their motives put on a spotlight? That was better than nothing. That was better than another tick of unhappiness he’d orchestrated for himself.

He would fix it, make it right. Step by bureaucratic step, brick by brick.

pt. 1 | < pt. 6 | pt. 8 >

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 6

The night was over. The castle felt weirdly empty after the long party and its guest had gone. But in that moment Coran couldn’t have been more grateful for their absence. Kolivan had him pressed against the wall, just beside his bedroom entrance.

Coran had never been more acutely aware of their size different than in that moment, being entirely draped over by Kolivan’s build and height. He was pressing soft kisses along Coran’s jaw, taking his time just over the spot under his ear, nuzzling his cheek, breathing him in. Every time Kolivan’s mouth captured Coran’s lips, it sent soft electricity throughout his whole body. Coran was still trying to believe that this was happening at all.

“Kolivan?” Coran whispered, trying to not sound as breathless as he felt.

“Hm?” Kolivan pulled away to inspect Coran’s expression. Coran brought his hand to rest on Kolivan’s chest, feeling relieved to find his heart beating just as fast as his own.

“It’s late,” Coran said, bringing a hand up to Kolivan’s ear. His fingers combed through the fur, and he felt how the cartilage folded under the weight of his hand. Kolivan leaned into his touch.

“Wonderful observation,” Kolivan sighed, leaning forward and kissing the tip of Coran’s nose. Coran chuckled.

“You should head home,” Coran managed in between kisses. “You have to put in a formal request for additional resource for Hicif tomorrow.”

“I supposed you’re right,” Kolivan said, pulling away with a sour twist on his lips. Coran laughed. He supposed this was how Kolivan acted when he was being childish. Coran stood on the tip of his toes to kiss away the frown. “You make it difficult to leave.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kolivan,” Coran said with a smile, indulging in the warmth of being wrapped up in Kolivan’s arms.

“Hm, yes. Tomorrow,” Kolivan said, running a finger behind Coran’s ear and cupping his cheek. With one last dizzying kiss, they said goodnight.

Coran wandered into his room on wobbly legs. He plopped onto his unmade bed, smiling at the ceiling, feeling that same giddiness he felt the first time he’d kissed someone. He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head at himself. He undid his pants, relieving the distracting pressure, and kicked off his shoes.

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to fall asleep. He was pretty sure he could smell something of Kolivan on his shirt—maybe how his clean clothes smelled—and he didn’t want to take it off.

He tossed and turned and quickly found that he couldn’t sleep. Or at least it would be a while until he felt any kind of tired.

Might as well get some work done.

Coran made his way to his office, going over the things he could get started on in his head. The halls were cool and empty this time of night, some Rovers occasionally hovering around doing their surveillance shifts. Coran stepped into his office, the space seemingly foreign at first. He wasn’t used to seeing it so dark.

He walked over to the windows to draw the curtains and noticed the soft light that came from Melenor’s garden. It looked almost magical from Coran’s office. He remembered how much Allura had loved to play in that garden as her mother worked. As he stood there, he realized that this was probably what Alfor spent all that time staring out at—his wife’s handywork. He probably even saw Melenor working down there on occasion.

The ball was over, plenty of promising alliances in the works. Coran, however, was tired and frustrated. Princess Allura had disregarded every word of advice he’d given her; he failed to be a proper chaperone. The king and queen didn’t seem to hold it against him, however.

Melenor shared his frustration, even though Allura wasn’t a candidate for proposal. Alfor seemed…indifferent? Unbothered? Coran couldn’t make sense of Alfor’s lack of interest in his daughter’s misbehavior.

Coran entered his office, starting to pace in front of his desk. He’d run his hand through his hair so many times, he was sure it was properly out of place. The princess was getting too old for this kind of incident. A knock on his door made him stop pacing.

The door opened and Alfor stepped in with a smile. “Hello, Coran.”

“Your Majesty.” Coran watched as Alfor stepped into the room, stopping by his favorite window.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, she’s still young,” Alfor said, well aware of Coran’s distress. “She has her own ideas of how things should be. I remember feeling that way.”

“You?”

Alfor looked up with a playful smile, eyes bright. “Somedays… Somedays I wish you’d open that already,” he said, eyes darting to something behind Coran. Coran turned to his desk only to find that damned Secret Keeper.

“Surely you’re joking, Your Majesty,” Coran said, picking up the cube.

Alfor shrugged. “I had my own ideas; I still have some. I can’t blame my daughter for thinking up some for herself.”

Alfor stepped out of the room, leaving Coran holding the cube, feeling utterly confused.

Coran looked over from the window and spotted the Secret Keeper’s silhouette, next to the little chest he’d gotten at the Pillar. He walked over to his desk and picked up the old cube. It had been through hell and back with him, he wondered if it still worked. Both conditions had been met, Alfor was dead and the Altean Hierarchy had fallen. Nothing was really stopping him from opening it…

He set the cube down and picked up the chest. By force alone he had been unable to open it. He took his seat and began to play with the latch again. The sun rose, his windows letting in the beams of sunlight, and he was still tinkering with the chest. Oil had seemed to do the trick, the lever gave in a little, but it got stuck on the latch. It had a dent that obstructed its path. Coran was painstakingly careful as he straightened it out.

There was a knock on his door.

“Yeah?”

“Today’s an off day, sir,” Emi said as he entered the office. “What are you doing in here? A-are those last night’s clothes?”

“Wh—yes,” Coran looked down at himself. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I would come here and work.”

“What did you work on?”

“Hm?”

“Let me see what you did so I can finish it,” Emi stepped closer, peering over his desk.

“Oh, um,” Coran looked around the desk, seeing the oil container, the smudges, and cloths he used to clean up scattered over his desk. “I didn’t get to it.”

Emi raised an eyebrow. “That’s a first. Well, better that way, I suppose. No working today, sir.” He walked over to the door and stepped aside for someone. “You have company, sir.”

“Thank you, Emi,” Coran said, wiping his fingers on a spare cloth. The door closed and Coran looked up. Kolivan stood in his office, for the first time looking like he didn’t know what to do with himself. The sight of him made Coran’s heart hammer too hard for it to be comfortable.

“Hi,” Coran brightened despite himself. “You can sit, you know.”

“Thank you,” Kolivan said, moving to sit in the armchair. “Are those last night’s clothes?”

“Hm, yes, it would appear so,” Coran said rubbing an eye and leaning back in his chair. He felt how his back cracked with the stretch. “Oh, boy.”

Kolivan smirked, standing, and walking around the desk, plucking a piece of cloth from it. “Here,” he grabbed Coran’s chin and held him still, dabbing at his cheekbone. “Your face is all smudged up. You even got some on your mustache.”

“Oh.” Coran’s hand instinctively reached up to touch his face. Kolivan shoved his hand away, still wiping at his face.

“What were you doing?”

Coran smiled at the question, closing his eyes as the cloth went over his eyes. “Trying to shimmy open a box. The oil worked wonders.”

“Yes, I see that,” Kolivan said; Coran could hear the smile in his voice. “I assume you haven’t slept.”

“Couldn’t really,” Coran shrugged.

“That so?” Kolivan’s thumb skimmed the bottom if Coran’s lip. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Erm… Breakfast you mean?”

“What else would I mean?” The cloth pulled away from Coran’s face and he opened his eyes to find Kolivan leaning on the edge of his desk. The sight shot a creeping warmth to Coran’s stomach. Coran swallowed, his eyes darting away from Kolivan.

“Um—n-nothing. Just breakfast.”

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that, Coranic.”

Coran blushed, hiding his face in his hand. “Ancients, you’re awful.”

Kolivan laughed, pulling Coran’s hand away from his face. “Come on, you need to eat.”

“I’ll just grab something from the kitchens,” Coran said, standing from his seat. His head spun a little as he reached his full height, having to place a steadying hand on his desk and almost leaning on Kolivan.

“I can go get it,” Kolivan said, holding his waist to steady him. “How long has it been since you last meal?”

“A few vargas? I’m not sure. I think since dinner.”

Kolvan raised an eyebrow, brushing his thumb over Coran’s cheek. “Too long then. Sit down; I’ll get you something.”

“Thank you,” Coran smiled. He hesitated, not knowing if it was okay to kiss Kolivan. They hadn’t talked about it at all, they’d slipped up. But Kolivan wasn’t distancing himself. If anything, he seemed to feel free to enter Coran’s space. Not that Coran minded. At all.

Kolivan seemed to have the same doubts, since he continued to hold Coran but remained still for a beat too long. Coran chuckled, reaching for Kolivan’s face. The gentle touch seemed to startle him.

“We can talk about it when you get back,” Coran said, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Kolivan’s grip tightened for a moment and relaxed as he exhaled.

“Alright,” Kolivan smiled, the tension in his body melting away. “I’ll be just a tick.”

Coran wiped away the oil from the chest as he waited for Kolivan. The sunbeams had reached his desk by the time Kolivan got back. He was frowning as he placed a sandwich on Coran’s desk.

“Thank you. Is something wrong?” Coran asked, pulling the plate towards him.

“You have an infestation in your kitchens,” Kolivan said, sitting on his armchair.

“What!?”

Kolivan nodded. “Mice. Somehow highly intelligent. They had made a sandwich and were insistent on me taking it—from what I could gather. I made a new sandwich, but I can’t be sure the ingredients were left untouched by the mice.”

Coran laughed in his relief. “You scared me for a tick. Those are Allura’s mice, they make me sandwiches from time to time. They’re quite good.”

“That doesn’t seem very sanitary.”

“You should see them in action, it’s very impressive. But thank you—for the sandwich. I wasn’t expecting you to actually prepare me something.”

“It’s no bother,” Kolivan waved a dismissive hand. “So… About last night…”

“Right,” Coran gathered the sandwich in his hands and took a bite. It was surprisingly good.

“I feel I might have overstepped,” Kolivan said, sitting up straighter. “You said we would start small and I don’t think I followed through on that. I apologize.”

“You don’t have to apologize, though I appreciate it. You haven’t done anything I wasn’t comfortable with.”

“That’s good to hear, but…I’m going to need some form of structure, Coran. Clear rules I can’t cross, otherwise I’ll feel like I’m stepping on your toes all the time.”

“Rules?”

“Yes, please.”

“Um, alright. That’s fair.”

They spent the late morning setting up a system of boundaries, from strictest to most lenient. The Coalition was off limits, anything regarding treaties, bills, agreements, or funding would be discussed only with other representatives present. Being in the Castle of Lions was an entire gray area. Stepping outside of the castle and off grounds allowed a more casual dynamic, the further from the castle the better.

As restricting as it was, this agreement was the most proper code of conduct Coran could think of. It was still wrong; the proper approach was to inform Diplomatic Relations of their involvement. Not that it would be easily greenlit. Daibazaal and Altea where planets that held too much influence and resources over the Galactic Coalition. Their relationship would be immediately misunderstood.

Kolivan was thorough in his question, to the point where the hypotheticals he inquired about seemed downright impossible.

“When will we ever find ourselves in a position to have to make that decision?”

“Asking the impossible is how the Blade of Marmora remained a covert operation for so long. I don’t see how this is much different.”

Coran laughed, running a hand through his hair. “This is a relationship, not an espionage operation.”

“A relationship that has a strong political connection, we both know it would be an insane scandal if we don’t get ahead of it.”

“Right, but I seriously doubt it’ll come to the point of choosing between letting a mayor political scandal rest on the shoulders of mice or killing them. I think they just startled you,” Coran started to smirk. “That was it, wasn’t it?”

“It’s unsavory to have mice in a kitchen, Coran,” Kolivan said with a twitch of an ear. Coran barked a laugh.

“Sounds to me like we’re done with the rules,” Coran said, standing up from his desk and stretching. “Come on, I don’t want to be cooped up today.”

Just being outside of the opera house was exciting for Coran. It brought back all the enchantment and intrigue he’d felt when he was younger, walking past the building with his Pop-Pop and being able to do little else than stare at the building. He’d loved accompanying Pop-Pop to market for that very reason. Sometimes he’d even catch a glimpse of the inside of the opera house, seeing all the patrons inside waiting to be seated.

It was only when Prince Alfor invited him along that he got to see a performance. Everything about it enraptured Coran. It was like watching a dream unfold.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Coran asked Kolivan for the third time. He was aware that Kolivan was only indulging him on going.

“You had invited me to go, Coran,” Kolivan said, placing a hand on his lower back. The touch sent a giddy jolt through Coran. “I’m only taking you up on the offer. I want to see the show you promised.”

“I’m worried I’m forcing you to attend,” Coran said running a hand through his hair.

“Haven’t you realized by now? I don’t do things I don’t want to.”

Coran looked up at him with a funny look. “From what I’ve gathered, you don’t do things you’re not able to.”

“If that were true, I shouldn’t be able to do this,” Kolivan said, lifting Coran’s chin towards him and kissing him briefly. Coran blushed, his head spinning a little as he looked over his shoulder. They weren’t too far from the castle, the grounds still in sight, but the plaza where they were wasn’t that crowded.

“Point made,” Coran said, steadying himself with Kolivan’s arm. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

“Lead the way,” Kolivan said with the most endearing and infuriating smile.

While being seated, one of the ushers recognized Coran and offered to seat him and his party in the Royal Box.

“I couldn’t possibly. It’s not proper,” Coran said politely.

“You’re the closest thing to Altean Royalty alive, sir. It’s really no problem at all,” the usher insisted.

“I wouldn’t mind the view,” Kolivan whispered in Coran’s ear. Coran needed to hear little else.

“Only if it’s no trouble,” he told the usher.

“No trouble at all, sir. Right this way.”

Altea kept surprising Coran, proving to be a perfectly persevered monument to Coran’s memory. The Royal Box was no different, but Coran realized as he sat down where he always had that he was different. Different from the last time he’d gone to the opera, different from the last time he’d lived in Altea.

It left Coran with an overbearing feeling of nostalgia, but the comfort in familiarity helped soothe that. If it weren’t for his pirating days, Coran would say he grew up in that box.

Now he sat in his usual seat, next to Kolivan and no one else. The box was uncharacteristically empty, but that felt right. Things weren’t back to normal, and they never would be, it was only natural to sense the void time had left.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Kolivan placed his hand gently on Coran’s knee.

“What is? Us?” Coran wasn’t sure where the question came from.

“No,” Kolivan chuckled softly. “Being up here. The last time we were in a place you regarded fondly, you were—upset. I don’t want this to upset you.”

“Oh.” That was ridiculously sweet. “Thank you. I promise I’m alright. A little sad, yes. But it’s alright.”

“Let me know if it becomes too much,” Kolivan said, taking his hand away to place it on the armrest. Coran linked their arms together and leaned into Kolivan’s side.

“I will, thank you.”

As the curtains raised, the orchestra’s opening piece was slowly weaved together. The story was crafted in melody, the singers on stage embodying the classic Altean tragedy: an envoy becoming blindsided by the bigotry of his lover and being torn between his sworn duty and the one he loves. An agonizing tale that continued to resound through Altean generations.

He found himself leaning forward on his seat as the narrative progressed, his heart racing all over again, like he was seeing it with new eyes. His chest ached with the renewed feeling this opera always left him—a soft, devastating wave of melancholy.

He felt Kolivan huff beside him. Coran looked over to find his eyes already on him, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“What?” Coran whispered.

“You are absolutely endearing.”

Heat rushed to his face, hiding it in Kolivan’s shoulder. He felt Kolivan chuckle.

“Let me amend that, you are unspeakably endearing,” Kolivan said, caressing Coran’s cheek, gently lifting his head. “Can I kiss you?”

Coran’s breath caught at the question. “Yes,” he said in a whisper, his heart fluttering. He distantly realized his heart had always fluttered for Kolivan.

Coran sighed into the kiss, Kolivan’s lips tender and unhurried. Coran felt like melting under his gentle touch, the soft tugs of teeth turning his stomach into a warm puddle. Coran’s hand tightened around Kolivan’s arm, his finger digging into the sleeve. Kolivan pulled away, brushing his nose against Coran’s.

“You excel at restraint,” Coran huffed an empty laugh, shifting in his seat to better accommodate his current situation.

“I unfortunately do. Thank you.”

The lights from the stage dimmed and applause erupted below them. The opera was over.

“We missed the end,” Kolivan said, leaning his forehead against Coran’s.

“I can tell you what happens,” Coran said, closing his eyes.

“How does it end?”

“The envoy kills himself.”

The lights in the opera house slowly brightened, making them pull away.

“Hm, I suspected as much. There wasn’t much to look forward to after he’s retired in disgrace.”

“Exactly! Allura always hated that part when she was younger. She always thought he’d be relieved, in liberty to be with his lover.”

“The lover wasn’t worth it, that much was obvious from the start,” Kolivan said with the beginnings of a smile. “I must say, not a very romantic theme for a date.”

“I suppose it isn’t,” Coran chuckled. “But I promised a show, not romance. I didn’t know you were such a softie.”

“I very much am,” Kolivan said, hand to his chest, that lilt of playfulness in his tone. “I just haven’t had to be in a very long time.”

Cute.

Coran leaned over and kissed his cheek. “And you say I’m endearing.”

“I stand by that,” Kolivan said with that brilliant smile. It melted Coran’s heart.

Kolivan didn’t give himself enough credit or maybe never perceived himself as such, but gentle was something he remembered well.

You remember more than you might think.

* * *

Coran had always been the kind of man that loved to work. He dreaded his appointed off days, always trying to find a way to still do something during the time. His little projects usually helped that impulse. From time to time, he would pick up the little chest again, resisting the urge to take it apart altogether to be able to open it. It gradually replaced his projects, hunched at his desk with delicate instruments trying to pry it open. It was slow work.

Regardless of how much he disliked not being able to work, his little projects aside, Coran’s off days became something he looked forward to.

“You’ve really gone at that little box,” Kolivan said from his lap. He was resting his head on Coran’s thigh, looking as relaxed as Coran had ever see him under the shade of the oldest tree in the field. “Doesn’t it hurt your fingers?”

“A little,” Coran sighed, running a hand through his fur, and rubbing at his ear. A small soft rumble came from Kolivan’s chest, like a sigh.

“What do you expect to find?”

“Honestly? Nothing,” Coran said, holding the box to the light of the midday sun. The light went through the material, glowing a warm color like it were made of marble. “I would like to have it working though. Old things like this deserve to have a little life breathed back into them.”

“That’s a sweet…sentiment,” Kolivan said, scrunching his nose.

“What’s that look?” Coran laughed.

“Nothing,” Kolivan shrugged. “It’s just—it’s a thing.”

“You think I’m wasting my time?”

“What you do with your time is your business,” Kolivan sat up, leaning on his elbow and reaching for the basket Coran had brought along.

“However, something tells me you’re full of opinions regarding it,” Coran smirked, putting his foot in the way when Kolivan pulled the basket towards them. “You can eat something when you express them.”

Kolivan huffed, flopping back down onto Coran’s lap. He reached up and gently took the chest from Coran’s hands. His inspection was delicate, being sure to run the pads of his fingers instead of his claws over the surface.

“You used to use days like this to work on projects like the Rovers,” Kolivan handed him the chest again. “Now you twiddle away at a dented box.”

“Would you rather I be in the castle all the time? Working on projects bound to the space I’m in? See you just at Coalition meetings?”

Kolivan’s ears flattened, his face twisting with discontent. “No,” he grumbled.

“Then let me twiddle in peace,” Coran said, running a thumb under Kolivan’s jaw. He tilted toward the touch like it bothered him, but a miniscule smile pulled at Kolivan’s lips and Coran felt the soft rumbling under his thumb. It was probably the best part about being alone with Kolivan, he was free to find out the smallest quirks and kinks in the guard Kolivan had around other people.

Coran pulled the basket toward them with his foot. “Here.”

Kolivan rolled onto his side, but never left Coran’s lap, lazily shifting through the contents of the basket. That was another of the many things he’d learned about Kolivan: once he was near Coran or in the liberty to touch him, he seldom did anything else. It seemed to be unconscious as far as Coran could tell. An arm around his shoulder, a hand on his lower back, an idle finger brushing his hair back.

He smiled at the thought of those small moments, twirling his finger around the tip of Kolivan’s braid.

“Do you want something from here?” Kolivan asked as he pulled out the bottle of nunvill.

“Just a glass.”

“Here.”

“Thank you,” he said, sitting back. Kolivan stood and settled himself in front of Coran, pouring them some of the liquor. He watched Kolivan lean back on his hand and take a sip of nunvill, looking out over the field of juniberries, his foot nudged against Coran’s knee.

“Hey, Kolivan?”

“Yes?” Kolivan’s ear twitched in Coran’s direction; he had Kolivan’s attention.

“Would you like me to visit Daibazaal with you?”

“Why does that matter? You’ve already been there,” Kolivan looked over at Coran curiously. It had taken some getting used to Kolivan’s bluntness, though in moments like this it still caught Coran off guard. He rearranged the question in his head.

“We’re always in Altea, we do things I suggest,” Coran shrugged. “I was wondering if that bothered you. If you would rather we did something you suggested or went to a place you were familiar with.”

“I didn’t grow up in Daibazaal, Coran,” Kolivan said, crawling up to sit next to him, groaning when he plopped down. “You could probably give me a better tour of the place than I ever could. I like the things we do.” Kolivan laced their fingers together. “I’m not complicated to please or entertain.”

“That so?” Coran teased. Kolivan snorted, leaning over to kiss his temple.

“I stand by that, yes,” Kolivan chuckled.

“Where did you grow up?” Coran asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“In a small system, too far out and meaningless for anyone to bother giving it a name. It was the farthest colony established at the time. They mostly referred to it as The Edge, short for the edge of the universe. But that was the only noteworthy thing about it.”

“That’s the military strategist perspective,” Coran said, leaning his head on Kolivan’s shoulder. “What did you think when you were growing up?”

“Hell if I know,” Kolivan took a swing of his glass.

“Come on, there must be something you remember.”

“Hm. I remember the smell of grass. It was different, like dry water if that makes sense. I remember…cargo days, when Empire supplies would finally reach us, and my mother would make the nicest dinner of the phoeb. And I remember the day I enrolled into the Galra army.”

“Nothing else?”

“I’m old, Coran,” Kolivan chuckled into his glass. “I haven’t really thought about the past. I can’t tell you for certain I remember what my mother looked like. I certainly can’t remember what she sounded like.”

“What did she smell like?”

“Like the local spices and wood,” Kolivan said with no effort. “She was always working, building things, cooking, fixing the house. I remember thinking that nothing could be broken as long as she was around. She could fix anything she touched. I thought that if she really wanted, she could fix my every problem. Of course, my problems back then were…scraped knees, bruised chins, that one bully I had in school…”

Coran grinned, fascinated by how Kolivan could remember things. Kolivan seemed a little surprised at himself.

“My Pop-Pop smelled like a stale closet, if I’m honest,” Coran supplied. “There was this old smell that clung to his clothes, even during formal events. Now I realize that’s just how the fabrics of the suits smell.”

“That or you’ve acquired his old-man smell.”

“Kolivan!” Coran gasped dramatically. Kolivan started laughing. “Why would you suggest such a thing? I won’t be able to sleep now. Old-man smell. Do I smell like an old man? Of course I do. I’m ancient—”

Kolivan swung an arm around Coran’s shoulder, still laughing as hard as Coran had ever heard him. “My love, I promise you don’t.”

Coran blushed, but still managed to jab at Kolivan. “Oh, no. You don’t get to insinuate that I have old-man smell and then butter me up with my love.”

“I think I do if it makes you blush like that,” Kolivan pulled him closer and kissed his cheek apologetically.

“You’re mean when you’re like this,” Coran huffed, pouring himself more nunvill. Kolivan brought his glass next to Coran’s, silently asking for more.

“You like me like this,” Kolivan nuzzled at his neck.

“Hm, maybe.” 

“Let me know when you’re sure,” Kolivan said, pulling away. Coran wasn’t sure if he was teasing or being honest; it was difficult to gauge how Kolivan flirted sometimes. But in any case, he knew he was sure he liked Kolivan, no matter how flustered his flirting made him or how obnoxious his teasing could be.

Coran hummed like he was thinking about it. He leaned over and turned Kolivan’s face towards him. Kolivan’s eyes were soft, already looking at Coran’s lips, a small smile playing on his own. Coran closed the distance, brushing his lips against Kolivan’s. It was an indulgent touch, Kolivan’s mouth moving against his own, brazen and mesmeric. His arm slipped from Coran’s shoulders to his waist, pressing him against his side. Coran blindly set down his glass of nunvill and reached up to cradled Kolivan’s cheek, pulling him closer and allowing his tongue to press past his lips. Kolivan made a content sound against Coran. That was answer enough.

Kolivan leaned forward, a hand grazing up his thigh, making Coran’s stomach swoop. But that’s where Kolivan stopped. He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Coran’s. 

“Sorry, I don’t want to cross a line” Kolivan whispered, pulling away. He seemed frustrated and unsure, his ears tipping back in annoyance. “I feel like a teenager all over again around you.”

Coran chuckled, kissing his cheek, wanting to reassure him but not overwhelm him. “If it makes you feel any better, I do, too.” Coran combed his fur back and pulled him in for a chaste kiss. “It feels ridiculous, being this old and having my stomach swoop when I think about you. I thought it was something you grew out of. Racing hearts and weak knees. Unseemly, really.”

Kolivan huffed a laugh. “Have you ever wondered what it would have been like? To know each other in our younger days?”

Coran wasn’t sure with what he had fallen in love with first, Kolivan or his questions. He thought maybe his questions.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Coran said with a smile. “It probably wouldn’t have been pleasant. You might’ve killed me.”

“Because you would’ve annoyed me?”

“Wh—no! You were a Galra soldier, Kolivan. You think I would’ve annoyed you enough to kill me?”

Kolivan gave him a blank look. “Yes.”

A surprised laugh escaped Coran. “Is that what you were thinking when you asked the question?”

“No. I was thinking that I still might’ve fallen for you, eventually, given the right circumstance.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“Because the right circumstances arose once already,” Kolivan shrugged, brushing his thumb over Coran’s cheek. “And I’ve really fallen for you.”

pt. 1 | < pt. 5 | pt. 7 >

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 5

Kolivan and Krolia were a significant change of pace in the Galactic Coalition. Kolivan was efficient and to the point. Krolia was innovative and practical. They gained the Coalition’s respect, and their proposals were approved in their majority. They were the change and balance the Galran people needed. They were almost a perfect fit.

Krolia knew how to adapt better to different groups of people, knew how to hide her discomfort when she heard something she didn’t agree with. Coran attributed that grace to her time as a mole in the Galra Empire.

Kolivan lacked that grace.

“It would be a better use of resources to focus our humanitarian aid on terraforming—”

“It would be a waste,” Kolivan cut in. “Restarting the terraforming process from scratch involves an astronomical investment on our part, whereas they already have a moon that’s begun the process.”

“Representative Kolivan,” Commander Holt said in a steady voice. “You’ve already spoken your time on the matter. Allow your colleague to finish his point. Don’t step in on his time again.”

Kolivan seemed unfazed by the reprimand, but Coran noticed the small twitch of annoyance his nose gave. That’s cute.

By the end of the meeting, a few representatives left with some ruffled feathers due to Kolivan’s interjections. Emi was chatting with Curtis as Coran put away his digital filer. Through his peripheral he noticed that Kolivan stayed behind after Krolia left.

“Will you be a while?” Coran asked Emi.

“You can go ahead without me,” Emi assured him. With that, Coran walked toward Kolivan, who appeared to be very interested in the materials of the chair he’d been sitting in.

“Something on your mind?” Coran asked.

“I realize I’m not great at politics,” Kolivan said, glancing at Coran. “Are people always this stupid or am I missing pieces of the conversation?”

Coran laughed. “Welcome to my world.”

Kolivan’s ears flattened. “Seems awful.”

“It is, but you get used to it,” Coran said starting to walk out of the room. Kolivan followed. “But you’re right about today. It was particularly awful. You should have heard Lurok’s speeches, though. You would’ve hated them.”

“I’m sure.”

“Do you want some pointers? So you can be better at politics?”

“Absolutely.”

“Zone out sometimes. It saves you some headaches.”

Coran heard a rumbling sound and realized he’d made Kolivan laugh. “I’ll be sure to do that. I’d also like some real advice, if you have any.”

“My good sir, I am full of advice,” Coran said if only a little dramatically.

“I’m all ears,” Kolivan said, making Coran snort.

“A few lessons in diplomacy would do you some good,” Coran said, leading them toward his office.

“I’ve been on diplomatic missions before,” Kolivan supplied.

“Ah, but Altean diplomacy is a dying art, and I can be sure the universe hasn’t seen it in some ten thousand deca-phoebs,” Coran said.

Kolivan shook his head with a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Kolivan pushed the office door open for Coran. “The universe will always be at odds. Even at peace, treaties are drawn up to delay conflicts, disagreements will be had, resentments will flourish. Alteans were known as the Peacekeepers, boasting a grand number of allies and mediating intergalactic conflicts. I remember when I was younger being conflicted over joining the Altean opera or applying to be an envoy sent beyond our star system.”

“The Altean opera?” Kolivan asked, leaning against his preferred window.

“Yes! I was quite enamored with the idea. We must go some time, it’s quite the show,” Coran said brightly. He felt his cheek warm in the belated realization of inviting Kolivan out. He’d never extended an offer like that before.

Kolivan cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m sure it is.” One of his ears fidgeted for a tick and stopped. He’d become more expressive throughout the phoebs working with the Coalition, working closer with Coran. Or maybe Coran had gotten used to his lack of expression and noticed Kolivan’s other outlets for it.

Or maybe stress just makes his ears tick. Stop overthinking.

But there was something warm in the familiarity he felt with Kolivan. He liked thinking that he knew the man, that they were close. Closer than just work friends. Proper friends.

The thought made him blush.

Coran put away his digital filer, shaking out his hands as he continued, “So, when dealing with smaller conflicts—because they are conflicts—we have a code, so to speak, to follow, Grogery’s Rhetoric.”

Coran moved to the bookshelves that were home to the few books he owned. The majority of his literature was digital, physical copies of Altean writings was rare. From there, he pulled out his Pop-Pop’s copy of Grogery’s Rhetoric. It was well-worn, read carefully, and contained the annotations of generations of Smythes. He very much loved that book.

“Here,” Coran handed the book over to Kolivan. “Hopefully this will help you in dealing with the Coalition.”

Kolivan took the book into his hands carefully. Coran watched as Kolivan turned the book over in his hands. Kolivan no longer wore his Blade uniform, as it was now Keith’s turn to don the leader robes. Instead, he wore shirts with band collars and tactical pants similar to those of the Blade uniform. As odd as it was at first, Coran grew accustomed to seeing Kolivan in casual attire. Then, the full image seemed to register in his head, just how bizarre the sight was—a Galra holding a piece of classic Altean literature. He found himself smiling.

“Thank you, Coran,” Kolivan said, looking up. He returned Coran’s smile and something in Coran’s chest fluttered or stuttered, he wasn’t sure. “I’ll be sure to read it by the next meeting.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Coran said, shaking out his hands. “Happy to help.”

There was a pause between them, like Kolivan was preparing to say something.

“Coran, I’ve been thinking…” Kolivan began. “Ever since Keith took charge of the Blades, he’s been around less, but I’ve been around more. I realize he would make sure to make sure you—Hm. I thought this would be easier to phrase.”

Coran realized that he’d just witness Kolivan babble. Even that he managed to do with some level of confidence.

He restarted, more bluntly this time. “You’re cooped up in your office often, Coranic. Keith’s visits amended that. They don’t anymore. You shouldn’t be cooped up today.”

Coran crossed his arms with a smirk, fueled by the knowledge that Kolivan could also be a flustered mess. “And why shouldn’t I be, today of all days?”

“Because I’m bringing it up today,” Kolivan said simply. “I have failed to bring it up in the past and it was starting to weigh on me.”

“Weigh on you? Why?”

Kolivan’s ears inched back ever so slightly as he looked away. “I feel responsible, as I continue to keep you company, and I have neglected that aspect of doing so. You seemed content inside, but I remember Keith saying that going out was good for you.”

“So you’ve kept me company out of a sense of duty?” Coran asked, deflating a little.

“No,” Kolivan said firmly. “I quite enjoy working with you and being…familiar. I’ve never had that before. Never allowed that for myself. Not in a way that mattered.

“I’m bringing it up because I remember Keith being worried about you. Frighteningly so. And that worry’s been at the back of my mind these quintants. You don’t tend to voice what you need. I thought I would—could give you that space.”

“Oh.” It took everything in Coran’s power not to hide his face in his hands like a schoolboy. There was something in Kolivan’s concern that was embarrassing for Coran. Perhaps he was embarrassed that his slump had caused such an impression on Kolivan that it still lingered on his mind even after all these deca-phoebs. Perhaps he was simply unprepared for Kolivan’s concern… Perhaps it was merely Kolivan’s attention. “Well, erm—I wouldn’t mind—not being cooped up.”

“Good,” Kolivan nodded, tucking Grogery’s Rhetoric under his arm. “Where do you wish to go?”

“Well, there is one place I haven’t been to in ages,” Coran said with a small smile. “All we need is a shuttle to get there.”

“Lead the way.”

The fields had somehow remained just as Coran remembered them. Patches of juniberry flowers covered the ground, their sweet scent wafting towards them as the wind blew. The skies were a placid blue, clouds slowly dragging by, the outer rings a faint silhouette. This was the Altea he remembered.

He had played with Alfor in these fields when they were boys, before they were flush with flowers. He had seen Alfor play with Allura when the flowers began to bloom, a flower crown waiting for him in the Princess’ hand every time he went to fetch them. He had long stopped considering this as his field, his place of comfort. It was Allura’s. Everything about it was hers.

They were under the shade of a tree, the oldest tree in the field by Coran’s estimates. There was a comforting joy that came with being back here. He was grateful Kolivan had brought up his worry. Coran probably wouldn’t have thought of coming up here if it hadn’t been for that.

“These flowers are native to Altea, yes?” Kolivan asked.

“Yes,” Coran said, shrugging off his suit and hanging it on a branch. “They were Allura’s favorite.”

“It’s a shame she didn’t get to see this again, then,” Kolivan said. Something caught in Coran’s throat. Kolivan had no idea how right he was.

“It really is,” Coran said, voice a little strained. He rolled up his sleeves, blinking away the tears in his eyes, trying to focus on anything else.

“If you don’t mind my asking…” Kolivan said, making Coran smile. He loved that Kolivan was asking him things. “I understand that you were some kind of ill when Keith was visiting. Was it because of Allura?”

“Hm, yes,” Coran said, clearing his throat. “She was the closest—she was very much like a daughter to me. I’d like to think I was like a father to her, too.”

“I’m sure you were,” Kolivan said, placing a hand on Coran’s shoulder briefly. He leaned against the tree with a sigh, looking past the fields. “I never had children. I’m not sure if I regret that now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Coran said with a watery laugh.

Kolivan raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure I would be aware if I had sired any offspring.”

Coran blushed but still shook his head smiling. “Then what’s Keith to you?”

“Keith? He’s—”

“Yes?”

“My ward?”

“He’s a grown man,” Coran pointed out.

“Then he used to be.”

“Now he’s nothing to you?”

A gravelly sound came from Kolivan’s throat. “Not nothing.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Coran nudged him playfully.

“If I were to have anyone that came close to that, then I suppose Keith is like a son to me.”

“Look at that, he has a heart,” Coran teased. “You can afford to be sentimental nowadays, it won’t kill you.”

“It felt like it nearly did,” Kolivan said, undoing the side buttons of his collar. Coran was a little distracted by the movement of Kolivan’s fingers to realize right away that he’d made a joke.

Coran chuckled, sitting next to Kolivan’s legs, leaning his back against the tree. “Has it ever, though?”

Kolivan slid down, knees to his chest, undoing the clasps in his sleeves, and folding them towards his elbows. It was a bit too warm out to be comfortable. “It has,” he said, his hand reaching the side of his face. The side with the scar.

“Lenor?”

“Hm, a parting gift,” he nodded. “She notified my commanding officer of my plans. I fought for my life that day. Not entirely sure how I escaped with just this.” His thumb brushed over the scar. “After that, it felt like I was fighting for my life every day.”

“It’s not like that anymore,” Coran said. That much was obvious, but he wanted to reassure Kolivan of the fact.

“It really isn’t, is it?” Kolivan rested his chin on his knees, turning his head towards Coran.

They stayed like that the rest of the quintant, talking and making small jokes. Enjoying the landscape and each other’s company. The sun had begun to set when they finally decided to head back to the shuttle.

“I forgot to ask you something,” Kolivan said as he watched Coran shrug on his suit.

“Shoot.”

“You haven’t stopped wearing that shade of red in your suits since the war was over, is it an Altean victory color?”

He was right, Coran always had something pink on. It could be the piping, the lapel, the shoulders, the body, but he always wore pink. He gave Kolivan a sad smile.

“No, um… It’s our color for mourning.”

“I see,” Kolivan nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Coran said honestly, fixing his collar. “Let’s get going before it gets too dark.”

They mounted the shuttle and headed for the Castle of Lions. The sun set lower in the horizon, painting the sky in yellows and purples, the shyest hints of pink scattered through the clouds. Sunsets were always peaceful for Coran, but sunsets with Kolivan seemed to be better. Like his fur and markings were made to make the view better, like his yellow eyes were meant to reflect tranquility, like he was made to be just as mesmerizing. Coran found himself staring at Kolivan the rest of the way, too transfixed to look at anything else.

* * *

In the spirit of keeping good relations, the Earth and Altea representatives had proposed a gala. Curtis and Emi led the preparations, leaving Coran—for the first time he could remember—without much to do. Coordinating events was one of his many strong suits, the one he could show off the most. He didn’t like to give it up that easily. But he had other worries right then.

Kolivan hadn’t left his head since that one afternoon. It didn’t help that he saw him every other day. He got distracted easily, sometimes he even found himself fumbling for words. Coran was tempted to blame his age for these slipups, but the feeling was familiar. Everything about Kolivan was infuriatingly familiar.

Coran was just about finished combing his mustache when he heard a knock on his door. He peered out of his bathroom, looking over to his bedroom door.

“Who is it?”

“Kolivan.”

Drats.

“Be right there,” Coran called. He gave himself a once-over in the mirror, determined he looked perfectly put together, and walked over to answer the door.

“Hello,” he greeted Kolivan. He was wearing his formal robes again. It was unfair how handsome he looked in the dark robes, the red highlights complementing his markings nicely. “Is there a problem?”

“I didn’t want to put Krolia through the ordeal of dragging me around trying to find you again,” he said somewhat apologetically, holding up his scarf. “I didn’t pay attention when you tied it the last time.”

“Oh,” Coran smiled, stepping aside, “that shouldn’t be a problem. Come on in.”

Kolivan ducked a little and stepped inside, looking around the room. Coran was only a little self-conscious that he hadn’t made the bed that morning.

“Do you want me to show you?” Coran asked, taking the scarf from Kolivan’s hand, ignoring when their fingers brushed. He found he had to do that a lot recently. He ignored every time their hands brushed exchanging papers or reaching for things on the table during meetings. Ignored how he sometimes caught Kolivan looking at him during another’s presentation. Ignored how his eyes seemed to linger. Ignored how his own heart raced at the sight. Most of all, he ignored the little thrill he got from knowing he was of the few people that got to be that close to Kolivan.

“Yes, please,” Kolivan said, following to the bathroom. “I don’t want to burden you. I have a feeling these events will only become more frequent.”

“They probably will, yes,” Coran smiled. “Alright—” he lifted his collar and wrapped Kolivan’s scarf around it, adjusting the length, “—the long end goes over the short end, it loops under, over, and through. And then you just—” Coran pulled on the shorter end, adjusting the knot near the upper half of the longer end, creating a small, bunched crest at the base of the neck followed by a neat tie. The rest of the scarf was meant to be tucked into the suit’s vest piece.

Coran looked up at Kolivan through the bathroom mirror, finding his eyes entirely focused on him, on his hands.

“You think you got it?” Coran asked, undoing the knot. Kolivan nodded, stepping up to the mirror. Coran propped his collar and wrapped the scarf around his neck, adjusting the length for him. He watched Kolivan silently work the cloth, his finger fumbling with the loops. It was tighter than it needed to be, but it was definitely a cruder version of Coran’s knot. His thumb was still trying to fix the crest when he looked over at Coran.

“Yours looks nicer,” Kolivan said, more of an observation than a frustrated remark.

“You just have to tighten it less,” Coran said, undoing the knot so he could practice again.

“It feels flimsy,” Kolivan said. “I don’t want it to loosen.”

“Did it loosen at Shiro’s wedding?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Then it doesn’t need to be so tight. Try again,” Coran tugged on the scarf for emphasis, but noticed how Kolivan was nudged forward by the small force. Noticed the little huff that escaped him, noticed how he clenched his jaw. Heat creeped into Coran’s face as Kolivan practiced the knot again, hopefully too distracted to notice.

This time, the tie was better, the small crest not as squished as the first time.

“I need to practice it a few more times,” Kolivan said to the mirror. “I’d still rather wear your tie tonight, if that’s alright.”

“It’s not a problem,” Coran said, reaching to undo the scarf one last time.

His fingers worked the tie deftly, gingerly tucking it into Kolivan’s suit, making sure to puff it out a little. His fingers brushed Kolivan’s neck as he fixed his collar, and he noticed how Kolivan swallowed and stood a little stiffer under his touch.

Coran straightened his suit, ignoring how warm he felt and cleared his throat. “You’re all set. Looking very dapper if I might add.”

Kolivan gave him a small smirk. “Thank you, Coranic.”

Coran sighed running a hand over his brow, irritated. “You’re a nightmare.”

Kolivan barked a laugh. “Come,” Kolivan said, patting him on the back and pushing him out of the bathroom, “I heard the festivities would beginning right at dusk, just a few doboshes away.”

They arrived along with a big group of ambassadors, all from the different planets that made up the Coalition. Coran had the overwhelming urge to take charge and help with sorting out the guests. Emi seemed to be doing a fine job of it, everything very much under control.

Coran couldn’t help himself, walking over to Emi. “Are you sure you don’t need any help? Anything you might need taken care of?”

“I’ve got everything covered, Coran. Just enjoy the evening. You’ve done your part,” Emi assured him. Coran gave him a questioning look. “The Rovers. Extremely helpful, especially tonight. Consider that your contribution.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am. With all the respect I have for you, sir, I’m going to ask you to go away,” Emi said with a smile. Coran laughed.

“Alright, dear boy. You win,” Coran chuckled. And with that, he properly stepped into the ballroom.

Many grand events had taken place on that floor, each one a means to an end—maintaining diplomatic relations. The most common affairs were arranged marriages, which if memory served, had been the last event held in that room.

Coran watched Allura from the king’s side. She wasn’t of marrying age, but Melenor insisted in her attending the event. Exposure was necessary, according to the queen. Allura was in a corner, surrounded by her school friends, some of which were potential candidates for proposals. They seemed to be giggling at a group of boys that was across the room.

“Coran,” Melenor called.

“Yes, my Queen?”

“Could you be Allura’s chaperone for the night? I’m worried she might be uncomfortable. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so adamant—”

“You worry too much, my love,” Alfor said, taking her hand reassuringly. “She needs this exposure, even if it’s not where she’d prefer to be. Listen to your Queen, Coran.”

Coran bowed at his dismissal and walked over to Allura.

“Princess, I am to be your chaperone for the night. Your mother’s orders,” Coran said. Allura seemed relieved at his words.

“Coran! I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, linking her arm with his. “These events seem awful.”

“It’s how your parents met,” Coran said. Allura looked a little horrified, making him chuckle. “Love’s a strange thing, child. One day, hopefully, you’ll get to see how that can be so.”

“Hopefully not any day soon,” she said, dragging him toward her group of friends. He was supposed to simply stand near the princess to serve has her chaperone, but Allura didn’t much care for the protocols of these events. When she was younger, she would’ve run under tables, hidden under her mother’s skirts, dashed around, weaving between the guests’ legs. Now she was older, but her disregard for properness was shown in other ways.

Coran wondered when she would grow out of her rebellion towards the crown.

Coran huffed out a breath, looking around. He spotted many familiar faces, but none he actually wanted to approach. He saw Slav nervously talking Commander Holt’s ear off; Colleen seemed alarmed at whatever Slav was babbling on about, but Holt appeared only mildly interested, like he didn’t wish to encourage Slav further. Coran had half a mind to walk over to spare them of Slav’s dizzying monologues, but he didn’t feel up to enduring them himself.

He saw Shiro walk in, looking around the room with a lost expression on his face. He was wearing a suit, not so different from the one he got married in, except this one was a dark blue. Coran waved him over, Shiro relaxing at the familiar face.

“Hey, Coran,” he greeted him with a hug. “I was looking for Curtis. He left home early to help out over here, so I haven’t seen him.”

“He’ll probably be all over the place the first half varga of the event,” Coran said. “I saw Samuel Holt with his wife, but they were talking to Slav.” Coran nodded in their direction.

“I’m not sure I want to interrupt that, as much as I would love to talk with the Commander,” Shiro said, looking over to the trio. He turned to Coran again. “So, how have you been?”

“Good,” Coran nodded with a smile. “I’ve been good, Shiro.”

“That’s really good to hear,” Shiro said with a grin. “Everything’s running smoothly, then? Castle, Coalition?”

“Very much so,” Coran said. “I just wish I could see you kids more often. I already felt like an empty nester when you went your separate ways and the lions disappeared. Now Romelle’s left the castle as well. I feel nostalgic all over again.”

“Where’s she off to?”

“Happy Lives with Hunk,” Coran said brightly. “I’m really happy for her, don’t get me wrong. I just got used to a certain routine. I’m an old man, I like my routines.”

Shiro laughed. “You’re not that old Coran.”

“I’ve found four gray hairs on my head this last movement, Shiro,” Coran said gravely. “I’m afraid I’m dying.”

“I must already be dead, then,” Shiro chuckled, running a hand through his white hair.

“I knew you were the moment you needed your reading glasses to see all the time,” Coran said with a smirk.

Shiro laughed, punching his shoulder lightly. “Curtis says I look youthful with them.”

“Ha! He lies because he loves you. He’s a keeper.”

“He better be, we just finished paying off the house,” Shiro shook his head, still smiling.

“Commander Shirogane,” Emi called as he approached. “Sorry to interrupt. Representative Colt was wondering about your whereabouts. He’s still a little busy, but he wanted to see you. He’s stationed at the intergalactic shuttle bay.”

“If you’ll excuse me, Coran, my liar calls,” Shiro said, patting his shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Coran chuckled. “See you later, dear boy.”

The other good thing about events like this was that Coran got the opportunity to catch up on local gossip. He was usually terribly out of touch with such topics, but the allowance for mingling at the gala gave him easy access. He would hear all sorts of rumors, ranging from silly misunderstandings between lovers to political scandals that he would have to investigate later.

With age, remembering details was getting more and more difficult. He didn’t want to wait until the end of the evening to report the things he’d heard. He began to look around him, trying to spot Krolia. He finally did.

She was talking with an ambassador from a smaller moon. Coran hesitated only for a tick before interrupting them.

“I hate to be rude, Ambassador,” Coran said, trying for his politest voice, “but could I speak with Representative Krolia for a dobosh?”

The ambassador smiled with a nod, turning to another conversation beside them. Coran led Krolia away from their ears.

“Is something wrong?” Krolia asked wearily.

“Not particularly, no,” Coran looked over his shoulder. “I’ve overheard some folks this evening speak quite freely about illegitimate activities.”

“Do you have their names?”

“Yes, though it’d be easier if I wrote them down.”

“Alright,” Krolia straightened. “For now, don’t worry yourself too much—write them down later. I’ll ask Keith to look into it. Breathe, Coran. Try to enjoy tonight. There’s not much we can do at the moment.”

“What can’t we do much about?” Kolivan asked, two drinks in hand. He handed one to Krolia.

“Some ‘illegitimate activities’ Coran overheard being discussed,” Krolia said.

“I suspect these types of events are riddled with many lies,” Kolivan said, taking a sip of his drink and frowning at the glass. “What is this?”

Krolia lifted the drink to her nose. “Nunvill, I think.”

As Kolivan’s words registered, Coran realized he might’ve overreacted. Ten thousand deca-phoebs ago he wouldn’t have bat an eye at such discussions. He would have notified Alfor when he could, the matters would be investigated, and they would turn out to be nothing. He couldn’t remember the last time one of those outlandish rumors had ended up being true.

“Here,” Kolivan said to Coran, bringing him back from his thoughts. “I’d rather not finish this, and you look like you need it.”

“Thank you,” Coran said taking the glass from his hand. He relished the familiar flavor of nunvill, the soft irritation it caused along his throat. A few more of those and he’d be swaying on his feet, giggling at the fuzzy feeling that would envelop him.

Kolivan looked over his shoulder, like he was weary of someone approaching.

“Everything alright?” Coran asked.

“Emi asked me to speak before we ‘properly began,’ whatever that means,” Kolivan said. “Not particularly keen on that. It’s already been a varga, when does this begin?”

“By now, most guest must’ve arrived, so I’d say soon enough.”

“I know how to encourage soldiers, not console diplomats,” Kolivan shook his head.

“You’ll be fine,” Krolia said. “This is just a like a Coalition meeting, only bigger and with a fancier dress code.”

“So, very much not like a regular meeting,” Kolivan said with a sour twist on his lips. “Keith has better graces with this type of speech.”

“You’ll do great,” Coran said taking a sip of his nunvill. “Just mention something about a road to reparations and you’ll get big cheers. It’s a rather popular topic these days.”

“Right, right,” Kolivan nodded. “Rhetoric.”

Coran smiled into his glass, feeling an odd mixture of pride and flattery swell in his chest. Kolivan had been reading Grogery’s Rhetotic. He’d kept his word. It was sweet.

“Right.”

“I think Emi is calling for you,” Krolia said, looking around Kolivan. She raised her hand and waved. “You better head over and make both of us look good.”

“I thrive under pressure, Krolia,” Kolivan said in what Coran recognized to be his joking tone. It only had the slightest lilt of mirth. “I only wish I hadn’t given Coran my drink so quickly.”

Kolivan stalked over to Emi, no sign of nervousness in his gestures. They climbed up the small stage that hosted the musicians and Emi got everyone’s attention rather quickly.

“Good evening, esteemed ambassadors, representatives and loved ones,” his voice carried over the grand room. “We are gathered tonight to celebrate the unity of the Galactic Coalition and promote further amity. This has been an effort of many deca-phoebs, but a better tomorrow is on the horizon. That wouldn’t have been possible without Daibazaal joining our efforts in reaching our goals. In the same spirit of amity that brought them to joining the Coalition, I’d like to invite Representative Kolivan to share a few words with us.”

Emi stepped aside as Kolivan took center stage. His face was stoic as he inspected the audience before him. Coran had come to recognize that this was how Kolivan looked with his guard up.

“The Galra have done the universe a great wrong. There is no denying that. It would be a gross oversight to do so. In the last deca-phoebs, Representative Krolia and myself have been working closely with the Blade of Marmora and the Galactic Coalition in the hope to reconcile with the damage done.

“The fruits of our efforts are beginning to bloom. The Blade of Marmora has fully transitioned to operate as a ‘humanitarian aid organization,’ as its new leader, Paladin Keith Kogane of Voltron, has dubbed it. The Empire’s tyranny had never been more behind us. We thank the Coalition for having us and giving us the opportunity to help undo the damage we’ve done. As Daibazaal gains your trust again, we offer our resources at your disposal to help bridge that trust. The future of the Coalition is bright, and we’re excited to be a part of it.”

He bowed and received a polite round of applause. Emi stepped up again beside Kolivan, where they faced each other.

Coran watched beside Melenor as Alfor offered Zarkon his forearm, his trust in the Galra ruler evident in the confidence of his posture. Zarkon’s eyes softened, appreciating the Altean offer, taking Alfor’s forearm in his.

Kolivan’s eyes were not soft, his expression showed his resolve to follow through with his words; Emi’s smile widened when Kolivan took his forearm, glad to see he knew what to do with the offer. The audience’s cheer was louder this time, the show of Altean diplomacy a breath of fresh air.

The event naturally resumed when Emi and Kolivan exited the stage. The musicians were already cued up for their starting piece, the melody softly lifting into the room. Coran recognized it as an interlude piece used in the Altean Opera. He smiled at the familiar tune. His smile only grew as he saw Kolivan approach.

“The next speech is yours,” he said to Krolia. “That was entirely too nerve-wracking.”

“Diplomacy has made you soft, Kolivan,” Krolia smirked. “I’m going to look for Shiro; Keith wanted me to excuse him from tonight.”

“Everything alright?”

“He said so,” Krolia shrugged. “Wanted to keep a closer eye on Lance this weekend. Apparently, he’s going through another slump.”

“I see,” Coran said. “It’s good that they look out for each other.”

“It is. Otherwise, I don’t think I would like Lance very much,” Krolia said and walked in Shiro’s direction.

Coran and Kolivan shifted to the nearest table, taking a seat as Coran gave Kolivan some pointers to improve his public speaking. Coran’s eyes tracked how Kolivan’s hands fixed the folds of his robe as he got comfortable in his chair.

“You could also engage with the crowd a little more, look at more than one fixed point,” Coran said, trying to pull his eyes way.

“I had read that finding familiar faces in the crowd helps,” Kolivan said.

“Yes, exactly.”

“I was…worried I wouldn’t find anyone else, so I focused on you,” Kolivan shrugged. Coran straightened in his seat, blushing. “You and Krolia.”

“Right,” Coran’s voice squeaked.

“Excuse me,” said a voice. Coran looked up to find General Tuhml, an ambassador for a moon in System 5-K-L. “My name is Tuhml of Hicif, First General. Could I have a moment of your time, Representative Kolivan?”

Kolivan stared at Tuhml for a tick, and Coran quickly realized he didn’t know what to do. He kicked at Kolivan’s ankle. “Of course,” Kolivan said, standing up with a small bow, like he hadn’t missed a beat. Coran smiled to himself.

The pair distanced themselves from Coran, but he could still read their body language very well. Kolivan stood rigid, nodding as he listened, face unexpressive; Tuhml spoke with a lot of hand gestures and smiles, like he was being particularly charming. Kolivan seemed to talk in short phrases, not particularly encouraging Tuhml’s conversation. He shook his head. Tuhml frowned. He said something else and Tuhml seemed pleased with that. Kolivan walked over to Coran and Tuhml wandered over to join his fellow Hicif ambassador.

“What did he want?”

“He thanked me for focusing the terraforming funding on his moon and asked if Daibazaal could help with additional resources.” Kolivan retook his seat beside Coran. “I said no, that I would have to consult Krolia and Daibazaal’s Secretary of Intergalactic Aid, Aihpos. He said he understood and thanked me again.”

“Sounds like you handled that well,” Coran said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Coran’s heart thrummed in his chest. He’d been feeling like that all evening. The smallest things about Kolivan would get a reaction out of him… Perhaps it was seeing him in a new setting. That was probably it.

The music swelled in the air, the strings lifting the melody to a satisfying conclusion. The next piece that began was softer and carefully sculpted to be danced to, a formal and gentle thing. Curtis and Shiro were already dancing, trying to follow the other representatives in their steps. They were different from the ones Shiro had taught Coran. The dances were created for conversation, allowing the participants to share pleasantries and possibly foster friendships that continued after the dance. They would switch partners every so often, twirling and being caught by someone new.

It sparked an idea in Coran’s head.

“Come on, this will do you some good,” Coran said standing up and beckoning Kolivan. Kolivan stood without question, probably trusting Coran’s judgement regarding these events. However, Kolivan’s blind trust seemed to shift when they neared the large group of dancers.

“Coran, what are we doing?” Kolivan leaned over to ask.

“We’re going to dance,” Coran said, smiling up at Kolivan. “It’ll be good for you to get acquainted with the other ambassadors. This will help.”

“I’m not sure how.”

“Don’t be so stiff, make some friends,” Coran said, offering his hand to Kolivan. “Just follow along.”

Kolivan’s ears flattened for a tick as he took a deep breath. “Alright,” he agreed, taking Coran’s hand.

The last thing Coran expected was to see Kolivan unfold. But that’s what he did.

Coran was surprised to see how easily Kolivan picked up the pattern of the dance; sway, turn, twirl, switch. With each switch, the group would break way into two pairs; sway, turn, circle around each other, switch. By the second switch, the original partners were together again, then the turns changed direction.

Coran probably danced with four different ambassadors, but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t stop looking at Kolivan. He took the dance in stride, his steps confident, his hold steady. He was graceful. Each time he returned to Coran, he’d smile like he was relieved to be back. It was a little intoxicating to realize he didn’t smile at anyone else.

Kolivan made it look easy. Like it was easy to be charming and coordinated at the same time. Like it was easy to hold close people one might fundamentally disagree with. Even easier to hold closer those you did agree with. The man that had been on guard giving his speech earlier was not the same one that was dancing. This Kolivan seemed…unbothered. Like dancing were his element.

Coran laughed when Kolivan returned to him, shaking his head as they danced the final steps. He noticed that Kolivan felt closer than he had been at the beginning, holding Coran with ease.

The music came to an end, and they bowed their thanks. Kolivan linked his arm with Coran’s and escorted them off the floor. A new set of ambassadors and representatives took their place.

“What a gentleman,” Coran said with a playful edge. Kolivan smiled as they stepped around the crowd that had gathered around the dance. He led them out to the balconies, which were empty and quieter.

“There are a few things I remember about being gentle,” Kolivan said, leaning on the railing and looking out to the lights that extended away from the castle. The night was alive and bright, the gala behind them in full swing. Coran had missed this Altea. “I could afford to learn a few more.”

“I’m sure you know plenty,” Coran said, relaxing into Kolivan’s side—tensing, realizing he hadn’t let go of Kolivan’s arm. Kolivan didn’t move, however. He just turned his head to face Coran better. “You were very impressive back there. I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I don’t,” Kolivan shrugged. “It was an easy pattern to pick up. A Blade must know how to adapt to his surroundings.”

“Krolia seems to have a better time of it,” Coran teased.

“Yes, well, some of us are more gifted than others.”

The moment stretched before them in comfortable silence; Coran still leaning too close, Kolivan looking out over the balcony. Kolivan took a breath and Coran felt how he stiffed under his touch.

“You must know these have never been my kind of events,” Kolivan said after a while. “I’d much rather be...”

“Be?”

“Elsewhere,” Kolivan looked away, his ear twitching like he were uncomfortable. Coran took a step back and Kolivan’s ears flattened. He wondered if his proximity was unwanted.

“You mean you’d rather be doing something useful?” Coran asked, trying to figure out Kolivan’s mood.

“I wouldn’t say that, I don’t think,” Kolivan glanced at Coran. “Unless utility could be subjective.”

Coran huffed a chuckle. “Subjective—what are you on about? I find you impossible to read, Kolivan. Just when I thought I had you figured, too. You give grand speeches about the future of the Coalition, you managed not to piss off a single ambassador, and you’re unbearably charming when we dance—it’s like I don’t know you. Then you switch around to your old, cynical—” Coran was watching his hands resting on the railing, watched as Kolivan’s clawed hand covered his own.

“I’m sorry,” Kolivan said, heaving a sigh. “I think I’ve forgotten how to act around you.”

Coran was still staring at their hands. Galras never engaged in casual contact, they only allowed that kind of behavior with family, if that. Or unless it was absolutely necessary.

Coran’s mind was blanking; he could only stare.

“Coranic?” There was concern in Kolivan’s voice. Heat flushed Coran’s face all at once.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Coran said with the ghost of a laugh in his voice, looking up in alarm.

“No,” Kolivan chuckled, stepping closer. “I think that's the last thing I want.”

Coran’s heart started to pick up the pace, beating firmly and incessantly. He knew this feeling. Its familiarity had been haunting him for phoebs, deca-phoebs even. And it felt as dangerous as it had the last time.

His hand settled on top of Kolivan’s, squeezing a little.

“Kolivan, this isn’t smart.”

Kolivan seemed confused at the words. Coran felt a rush of panic. Had he read too much into Kolivan’s behavior? Had he overstepped? Over spoken?

Something rumbled in Kolivan’s chest. He was laughing. “I’m sorry,” he chuckled, wearing the brightest smile. His arms wrapped around Coran easily, bringing their foreheads together. “I’m sorry. Suns and stars! Your eyes were so wide. I’m sorry I scared you.” He was still laughing.

Coran felt himself warmer at the sudden proximity and even as he began to feel the outrage, he relaxed into Kolivan.

“You’re terrible, you know? Vile and evil.”

“Hm, I’m sure,” Kolivan smiled, letting out a sigh. “This is what I’d rather have be doing.”

“Making me flustered?” Coran asked pushing him away playfully.

“That and something else,” Kolivan said, squeezing Coran a little. “The part that isn’t smart.”

“The part we probably shouldn’t say.”

“Probably not.”

“This is all too familiar for me, Kolivan. I don’t think my heart can play this game again.” Coran chanced a look at Kolivan’s eyes and found them crinkled fondly. He’d never seen them like that.

“But how could I compare to a king?” Kolivan asked, like the endearing fool he was. How couldn’t you? More than anything, Coran wanted to kiss him right then. Instead, he let his hand reach up to the side of Kolivan’s face, his thumb brushing over his scar and cheek.

“You’d be surprised.”

Kolivan leaned his head into Coran’s hand, closing his eyes and stepping away. Coran dropped his hand and offered Kolivan a brave smile, something in his chest dislodging. Kolivan glanced at the gala behind them, his ears twitching like he was annoyed. They knew this would be complicated.

“Kolivan? Have you ever seen the royal garden?” Coran asked as casually as he could.

“Only from your office window,” Kolivan said, tilting his head in confusion.

“Would you like a closer look?” Coran linked their arms and began to lead them down the balcony steps.

“Right now?” Kolivan still looked confused, looking over his shoulder toward the grand, bright room.

Coran’s grip tightened a little over Kolivan’s forearm. “Yes, right now. The gerdia’s look wonderful under the moons’ light.”

“Right, alright,” Kolivan said, placing his hand over Coran’s, finally caught up.

The royal garden had been Melenor’s. She had poured so much of her time and passion into it, Coran felt compelled to bring it back. While it wasn’t exactly how Melenor had left it, it was as faithful to her vision as Coran could manage it. It was open to the public nowadays, the Altean Hierarchy long gone. It kept its title as a reminder of its original creator.

The path to the garden was lit up by soft blue light. Even though it was a public garden, not many people frequented it. It had Melenor’s favorite flowers and aromas. Walking through it was like walking next to her—not that many knew that.

Coran missed Melenor. He had been her aid as much as he had been Alfor’s. They had kept each other company when Alfor was away as the Red Paladin, they would joke around at balls if the politics had been particularly boring, they had been friends. Very good friends.

He took a deep breath, smiling at the comforting familiarity in Melenor’s favorite things. They stopped at the entrance of the hedge maze Melenor had loved to stroll through.

“Kolivan, is it alright if I speak plainly with you?” Coran asked, his stomach thrumming nervously.

“I would rather if you did,” Kolivan said as he took in the garden, running his thumb over the back of Coran’s hand.

“Tell me what you want,” Coran said, turning his head to look at Kolivan. “I know what I want but tell me what you want. I must know if I need to push what I want aside again. I can do it; I know I can. I just need to know if I have to.”

“And what is it you want, for the sake of speaking plainly?”

“You,” Coran said more honestly than he meant to. “But I can withhold my affections for the sake of our positions.”

“Must we do that? Stifle ourselves? Aren’t you always encouraging the idea that vulnerability is something I can afford now? But I have to hold my tongue when, for once, it’s the last thing I want to do?”

“You know how messy this could get, Kolivan,” Coran said, stepping away from him. Kolivan didn’t let go of his hand, so he held it as he stepped into the maze. Kolivan followed quietly. “Our positions create conflict of interest if we were to get involved. I am willing to risk that—if that’s what you want. We could…start small? Make sure we can separate work from a potential relationship?”

“What I want… I’ve never had the opportunity to want things for myself.” Kolivan ran a hand along the side of the hedge. He took a steadying breath, stopping his tracks and pulling Coran by the hand. “Coran, I’m afraid—I’ve never had to—” He shook his head, gathering Coran in his arms. “Victory or death. That’s how I’ve functioned for the longest time. With the affairs of the heart, I am but a child. I’ve never had to moderate. It either meant nothing or everything. I’m afraid of wanting more than you can offer. Of taking more than what is mine. I’m scared I won’t be able to do this.”

Coran fixed the crest of his tie and took his face into his hands. Kolivan held him closer, like he was afraid of what would happen if he let go.

“I’m scared, too. My heart’s never had the things it desired. I’ve never allowed myself to dwell. But for the first time I’m considering it, allowing myself a little happiness,” Coran said, running a thumb over Kolivan’s furred cheek. “I want you enough to try.”

Kolivan huffed out a breath like he’d been holding it.

“I do, too,” he said, ducking his head closer to Coran. “I’ll be content with what you can give me.”

Coran smiled, a sad little thing. His heart yearned to give Kolivan everything. Not just small doses of his affections, not just what could be spared between glances. He wanted to be able to kiss him without reserve, hold him without hesitation, have him without a doubt.

But for now, this would have to be enough.

Even then, it had been too easy to break their first unspoken rule. It had been too easy for Coran to brush his thumb over Kolivan’s lower lip; it had been too easy for Kolivan to lean forward and close what little space was left between them.

Coran felt the tentativeness in Kolivan’s lips, soft and uncertain. Coran relaxed into Kolivan’s arms, kissing him back slowly, sweetly. Kolivan, a man Coran had viewed for the longest time as harsh and stoic, a man he’d once been apprehensive to trust, now held him with reverence, kissed him with ardor. Kolivan, the avid disciple of adjustment, was now an acolyte of the contours of Coran’s mouth.

He became more confident, bringing Coran flush against him, and taking a sharp breath as Coran’s fingers tangled into his fur. Coran wrapped his arms around Kolivan’s neck, deepening the kiss and feeling the scrape of Kolivan’s teeth on his bottom lip; it made his knees weak. Coran ran his tongue over Kolivan’s lip whenever he could, his mouth trying to keep up with the slow desperation building in his chest. It seemed to drive Kolivan a little crazy, soft hums rumbling from his chest.

Coran had managed to keep quiet until Kolivan began licking into his mouth. It made his stomach a warm, fluttering mess, his fingers digging into Kolivan’s collar. He made a small sound, somewhere between a hum and a moan. He hadn’t been kissed like that in a very long time.

Kolivan slowed down, pulling away softly. “Feeling alright?”

“Hm, yes,” Coran said with the brightest smile, swiping a thumb under Kolivan’s lip. “You’ve no idea.”

pt. 1 | < pt. 4 | pt. 6 >

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 4

The quintant ahead of Coran was a busy one, even with Emi running from one end of the castle to the other doing as much as he could. The Castle of Lions was to hold a diplomatic banquet to serve as the third party that placated between two planets that found themselves at odds. Happy Lives would be catering the event and Coran was expecting a shipment from the Garrison for some improvements on the Rovers that helped run the castle.

He trusted Hunk to be alright on his own in the kitchens, but he felt like a bad host leaving him alone.

“Coran,” Romelle peered her head around the kitchen entrance, “they need you at the loading docks.”

“Erm, yes. Just a dobosh,” he said, turning to Hunk. “I’ll be quick about it, I promise.”

Hunk chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Take your time.”

“I can stay until you get back,” Romelle offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Plus, this whole operation seems fun,” she gestured toward the activity currently overtaking the kitchens.

“Alright, I’ll be back soon,” Coran said, hurrying out.

There was a lot of foot traffic in the direction of the bays, with ambassadors and cargo handlers mingling together.

“Excuse me, sir? Which way to the banquet?”

“Hey, mister, where do you want these parts?”

“Oh, um. Alright. Ambassadors! Please follow the gentleman with the purple hair to the banquet!” Emi raised his hand at the end of the hall, waving for the officials to follow. “Garrison fellas! Everything to the storage room down to your left!”

Coran pushed through to the docks, trying to find the shipment papers he had to sign.

“Coran!” a woman’s voice called. He looked around a found someone in pilot’s uniform waving at him. A blonde girl with short hair and freckles. She was familiar to Coran—an MFE pilot. Yes, Ina-something. Something complicated.

“Hello,” Coran smiled politely. “Have you the papers I’m to sign?”

“Yes,” she handed him a clipboard and pointed to where his signature was needed. “We also need to pick up a shipment of teludav disks for wormhole construction.”

“Those would have to be cleared by the Intergalactic Transportation Department, over on Pillar F.”

“Captain’s getting the clearance as we speak,” Ina said, taking the clipboard back.

“Alrighty, then I’ll fetch our Transport Merchant,” Coran wandered over to the bay’s telecoms and notified Oller of the request.

“Between clearing the papers and request, plus getting the stock to the bay…it’ll be the better half of a varga,” Oller called over the comms.

“Thank you, Oller,” Coran said, turning to Ina. “Did you get that?”

“Yes,” she said, her tone level, but her expression slightly irritated.

“Leifsdottir! I’ve got the papers!” a familiar voice called over. Coran looked around for the person it belonged to and found Lance clumsily dismounting a shuttle, like he was in a rush. He looked up and his eyes lit up. “Coran! Hey!”

He jogged over, papers in hand, grin wide. “Here you go.” He handed Coran the papers. “What’s our ETD?”

“Over half a varga,” Leifsdottir said.

“Well, dang,” Lance chuckled. “That’s a delay. Iverson won’t like that.”

“Lance?”

“Yes, Coran?”

“How are you here?” Coran felt like he was in some weird dream, watching Lance stand there like it was the most natural thing in the world. Last he’d heard, Lance was a farmer on Earth, not a cargo ship captain.

“Oh,” Lance chuckled nervously. “I decided to finish my cargo license. I was kind of losing my mind at the farm. Vero noticed before I did, nudged me in the right direction and all that.”

“Well, since you’ll be here a while, we can catch up more properly,” Coran said with a smile. “You’re welcome to visit different halls in the castle,” he offered to Leifsdottir.

“I’ll wait in the ship,” she said firmly. “I’ll beep you when we’re good to go. And you better get here as fast as those legs can carry you, McClain.”

Lance nodded, unfazed by the edge in Leifsdottir’s voice. “No problem.”

“She’s in a mood,” Coran commented in a whisper as they walked away. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her talk.”

“It’s her anniversary, had a whole dinner planned,” Lance supplied. “We might not make it back in time. Honestly, I’d be just as pissed if I were late to dinner with Keith because of a last-minute run.”

“I’ll try to hurry this along,” Coran said, holding up the clearance papers. “Oller’s a fast guy, he’ll come through.”

Lance nodded.

“Oh, and after we drop these off, we can head to the kitchens. Hunk’s there with his crew.”

“Hunk’s here!? I haven’t seen him in the longest time! C’mon, let’s hurry,” Lance said, with much too enthusiasm, shaking Coran a little.

Having Lance and Hunk together in the same room was like watching children be reunited with their best mates after school break: overly sentimental and extremely dramatic, like they’d never thought they’d see each other again. It was then, of course, that they’d been struck with the idea to see the training deck again. “For old time’s sake,” Lance had said.

It was strange being back in the room. Everything was in its place, just as they had left it. Coran realized he couldn’t remember the last time they’d actually been there. He hadn’t had reason to visit the room.

“Man, we’d been kids the last time we were here,” Lance said, stepping forward into the room, walking toward the lounge area.

Hunk laughed. “You would’ve never called yourself a kid back then.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have,” Lance scoffed, flopping onto the sofa. “I was too busy being full of myself.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Coran said, venturing to step inside. “You boys grew into men in these halls. All of you became fine people through Voltron.”

“That’s really sweet, Coran. Thank you,” Hunk said with a smile.

“You know it’s true,” Coran shrugged. He watched as Hunk wandered around the room and Lance settled himself comfortably in the lounge, feet propped on the small table and hands behind his head. He took a seat beside Lance, the cushion giving under his weight comfortably. “So…”

“So…” Lance echoed, eyes closed, waiting for Coran to continue.

“How have you been? Getting back into piloting and all that?”

Coran noticed Hunk get a little closer at the question, Lance huffing out a breath. “It’s a slow adjustment, but my therapist at the VA helps a lot. Keith’s been really supportive, too. My sisters as well.”

“How’s that going?” Hunk asked from behind the sofa. “You and Keith?”

“Really, really well,” Lance smiled, his marks shinning in an endearing way. He chuckled, saying, “My nephews started calling him uncle. It’s freaking him out.”

“That’s lovely, Lance. I’m happy for you both,” Coran said.

That made Lance beam. “That means a lot, Coran. You have no idea.”

“I think I do,” Coran shook his shoulder reassuringly.

Coran couldn’t blame Lance for moving on, in fact, he was glad he had. The last thing he would wish was for Lance to remain stagnant in his grief. Allura wouldn’t have wanted that either.

Coran knew how much Keith cared for Lance, how long he’d harbored those affections. He was honestly glad that they had gotten together, he was happy to see that love was possible after devastation.

He had suspected that Lance would value his opinion about their relationship, but he didn’t think it would be to the point of the relief he now saw on Lance’s face. They had talked about Lance and Keith’s relationship before, but Coran had never expressed his opinion on it. He wondered if he should have done so sooner.

Lance’s belt gave off a beeping noise that yanked Coran from his thoughts.

“Oh, shit,” Lance said, shooting to his feet. “That’s Ina. We’re heading out in five doboshes.”

“We should head to the dining room,” Hunk said. “I can’t leave Shay alone for the courses.”

“Right, of course,” Coran said, standing from the couch. “I hope to see more of you, Lance.”

“You got it, chief,” Lance winked and hurried out to the docks.

When they made it back to the kitchens, the courses were already being set up. Romelle seemed to be helping plate the dishes. Hunk immediately entered his head-chef-mode, inspecting the plates and quality of the meals.

“You seem to be a natural, Romelle,” Hunk said in an impressed tone. Coran had seen Hunk lose his composure over the smallest divergence in the seasoning of a soup, which led him to believe that was a genuine compliment.

“Thanks, Hunk!” Romelle said, unaware of the magnitude of her praise. “Working with your crew’s been delightful.”

Romelle joined Coran at the banquet with an extra pep in her step.

“You really liked working with them,” Coran noted.

“I really did,” she sighed a little and smiled. “It’s a shame they don’t come around too often. Shay is wonderfully humorous.”

“You can join them, if you’d like.”

“You think so? Would you be alright if I left?”

“Emi is wonderful help; you won’t have to worry about that.”

“I was asking about you, not the castle,” Romelle nudged him gently.

Coran smiled, the stress of juggling the quintant melting a little. “Me? Yes, I think I’ll be alright. Just be sure to visit once in a while. Drag Hunk along, as well.”

Romelle beamed. “I can do that.”

* * *

Alfor had been lurking in his office for some time now. Coran would look up on occasion to see what the king was up to, but he mostly just found him staring out the window in his office, overlooking the castle grounds. Alfor sometimes did this, hover around Coran in silence.

He was avoiding something.

“Your Majesty?” Coran said without looking up from his work. He was coordinating with the other kingdoms of the system for a grand ball, to celebrate Altea’s new monarch.

“Ancients, that’s weird to hear,” Alfor said, immediately brightening at the attention and looking over. Coran resisted to urge to shake his head fondly. If the kingdoms only knew how spirited the new king actually was.

“Am I needed?” Coran asked, unable to repress his smile.

“Not yet,” Alfor said, stepping toward the desk and sitting on the edge. “I brought you something, though.”

Alfor laughed when he saw the surprise on Coran’s face.

“If anything, I should be the one to gift you things, Your Majesty. Your coronation was this movement and I haven’t been able to get away and—”

“You worry too much,” Alfor chuckled. “I—this is a small thing. No need to fuss.”

Alfor produced a small cube from his robe pockets. It was a Secret Keeper, a child’s toy. Coran hadn’t seen one in quite a while. Much less, been given one, even as a boy. They were single use toys, similar to Olkari Cubes, but instead of repeating messages or phrases they only held the secret they were told. Once opened, the secret was repeated, and the cube would fall apart. Being gifted one was a sign of trust, monumental trust, but that was among children. Coran was still trying to figure out what it meant for Alfor to gift him one.

The next thing out of Alfor’s mouth was something Coran never forgot.

“You are only to listen to this under two conditions,” Alfor said, winking. “I am dead, or you intend to collapse the Altean Hierarchy and all its traditions.”

Coran gaped at Alfor. Alfor had never talked like he had anything against his family or the life they had projected for him. To talk about the collapse of the Altean Hierarchy like he would like to see the quintant it happened, like he looked forward to it with glee was baffling.

He then realized that the collapse would depend on him. He was being given the secret that would unravel the kingdom. He wondered what kind of insane scandal Alfor must’ve been involved in, its magnitude so great that it would undo his kingdom entirely. But his curiosity wasn’t so great that he’d actually open the thing.

As he reached for the cube, he silently vowed to never open it.

The moment the cube left Alfor’s hand, he huffed a breath of relief. “Alright, glad that’s over with. I’ll see you at the banquet.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Coran said, following Alfor out with his gaze.

Just at the threshold, Alfor shook his head with a chuckle. “Quiznak, that’s weird.”

Coran stared at the cube in his hand. A small thing. It certainly didn’t seem so small.

pt. 1 | < pt. 3 | pt. 5 >

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 3

The door to his office creaked open. Coran looked up to find Keith peering his head inside with a soft knock on the door.

“Keith!” Coran greeted excitedly, somewhat surprised to see him. He hadn’t been expecting Keith today. The door fully opened to reveal the rest of Keith’s party. “And you brought Acxa and Kolivan, hello!”

Kolivan gave a short bow saying, “Coranic.”

Coran felt himself blush as he rose from his desk, trying to not act as flustered as he felt.

“Coran is just fine, Kolivan,” Coran said once again. Ever since he made his ‘Coranic Mechanic’ joke Kolivan has called him little else.

“An engineer of your stature deserves to be addressed by his proper title,” Kolivan said, the argument he always offered Coran when they faced this issue. Because it was an issue. So much so, that Coran found himself shaking out his nerves with his hands.

“There’s really no need for that,” Coran tried smiling, hoping his blushing wasn’t so obvious. “So, what brings you guys to Altea?”

Kolivan told Coran that Keith was going back to Earth. Just for two movements. But something about that was upsetting for Coran. Keith would visit when he could, he always did. If Coran really thought about it, he’d been hoarding the boy all to himself in the last deca-phoebs. It was only fair that he went to visit his other friends. More than that, it was only fair he’d get to visit Lance. Coran wasn’t oblivious to the affections the boys had for each other. He, like the others, had picked up on it gradually.

“I’m surprised you let them go,” Coran said as the wormhole Keith and Acxa had gone through closed.

“Yes, well, sentimentality is something we can afford now,” Kolivan said, still looking out at the spot they had disappeared through. “Like I’ve said before, I trust how Keith spends his time. I’m sure this trip is necessary in some form or another.”

“Not everything has utility,” Coran said glancing at Kolivan. Kolivan seemed to frown at that.

“I suppose,” Kolivan said reluctantly. He thought for a moment and added with a smirk, “Though, you must be right. There is no utility to making you flustered other than my own amusement.”

Coran turned toward him, gaping like a fish out of water. “Excus—what! You’ve been doing it on purpose!”

Something close to a chuckle rumbled in Kolivan’s chest. “Of course I have, Coranic.”

Coran felt the heat rise to his neck and ears once more. “That’s really not fair!”

“I’m sure you’re the only man I’ve ever met whose title flusters him so much,” Kolivan said with a shake of his head and a small smile.

Coran didn’t have the heart to correct him. Kolivan probably wouldn’t believe him if he did anyway.

Coran cleared his throat. “Have you considered my offer?” he said, trying to change the subject.

“I have. I also spoke with Krolia about it.”

“And?”

“The decision ultimately lies with Keith. I can’t leave the Blades for the Galactic Coalition if Keith doesn’t take over.”

“He doesn’t want your position?”

“He seems…hesitant. There’s something holding him back. Until then, the Coalition will have to do without me.”

“The current Galra representatives were evidently…fond of the Empire. They tend to discreetly relapse into old habits.”

“That’s why Krolia will take up candidacy,” Kolivan turned to Coran. “Hopefully, I’ll follow shortly after.”

“Right,” Coran said with a nod. “I can talk to Keith if you think it’s necessary. Figure out why he’s being so hesitant.”

“I have a feeling he’ll come around soon enough. Thank you, though.”

Coran nodded as they exited the bridge. A slight panic gripped him when he realized Kolivan was leaving. He was so used to Keith staying when he visited that their brief interaction today left him feeling lonely once the shuttle disappeared.

“Erm—so, what are your duties today?” Coran asked, hoping it sounded casual enough.

Kolivan raised an eyebrow. So, not casual enough. Drats.

“Start preparing for the next mission, I suppose,” Kolivan said. “Nothing that requires grunt work yet.”

“How do you mean?”

“It consists of only research and scouting the area, becoming familiar with their star map and put in a request for whatever service they need.”

“Sounds like light work.”

“It is, only tedious on occasion. Why do you ask? Do you require company?”

“Oh—I wasn’t—well, only if it’s not a bother,” Coran said quickly.

“I wouldn’t ask otherwise,” Kolivan said easily.

Coran immediately brightened, only feeling the smallest amount of guilt for keeping Kolivan in the castle. The leader of the Blade of Marmora had probably thought this was a quick drop off and he’d have the rest of the quintant for himself.

“I’m sure the star map room will have all the information you require,” Coran said, trying to be as helpful as he could.

“I’m sure it will,” Kolivan said, turning down the hall to make his way toward the map room. He knew the castle well by then, all those deca-phoebs of collaboration familiarizing him with the layout of the structure.

It had been rare for Keith to be unable to visit and, as rare as it was, it only increased the number of times that Kolivan came over. On these days, they would sit in comfortable silence, much like that first time. Coran had often caught himself watching Kolivan.

Kolivan’s very presence commanded attention. The set of his jaw and the steadiness of his gaze, the confidence in his posture and the intent in his gait. It was distracting.

Whenever Kolivan caught Coran watching, he’d simply smile. Like he’d just noticed Coran walk into the room. An easy smile. Almost like a hello, there. There was something extremely satisfying about that smile.

Now, Coran was watching Kolivan again. Following his confident walk across the star map as his hands navigated through the systems, searching for the information for his next mission.

A flick of Kolivan’s wrist brought back a long-forgotten memory.

“What do you imagine Daibazaal will be like?” the young prince asked, speeding through the star map with an expert flick of his wrist.

“I imagine it wouldn’t be so different from what your governess described, Your Highness,” Coran said, his voice squeaking around the word Highness.

“We’re all alone, Coran. Just call me Alfor,” Prince Alfor huffed. “Your grandad is Father’s right-hand man. I think that’s basis enough for us to be proper friends.”

Coran felt himself blush. He really shouldn’t be indulging in casually addressing Prince Alfor. It felt reckless and exciting. It was too dangerous for his heart.

“What if someone overhears?” he said instead.

Prince Alfor shrugged. “I gave you permission. That should be enough.”

Being close to Prince Alfor should’ve been enough for Coran. Hearing him call them proper friends should be enough. But the closer he got to the prince, the more he wanted. It wasn’t enough. Coran needed protocols and titles to have some semblance of control over his emotions.

“It’d be too weird,” Coran said, hoping to drop the subject.

“Suit yourself,” Prince Alfor said, throwing a smile over his shoulder.

Coran smiled at the memory, remembering the thrill of falling for Alfor. It had been exciting and stupid to have a crush on the Crown Prince. Only later did Coran realize he had fallen in love with him, a calm and devastating wave that overtook his heart.

Coran remembered Kolivan’s smile at Shiro’s wedding, when they had been talking about being young and stupid. Coran’s sudden curiosity was hard to shake off.

“Kolivan, you remember Shiro’s wedding,” Coran began.

“I do, yes.”

“You had mentioned something about being stupid and in love that quintant.”

There was a pause in Kolivan’s hands before he resumed his search. “As I recall, I had said love was stupid to add to your comment about it being sweet and silly.”

“Right, of course, but…you seemed to have experience in the area.”

“I do.”

“Oh.”

The pause that stretched between them was charged, if not a little awkward. Kolivan huffed in realizing he was expected to elaborate.

“I don’t know how to tell this story, Coran,” Kolivan said, looking over his shoulder.

“Well, I don’t mean to pry,” Coran said quickly.

Kolivan shook his head. “You’re not. I just don’t know where to start.”

“You can start with a name,” Coran suggested.

“Lenor,” Kolivan said with a nod, appearing to be glad to have some sort of direction. “She was a Reformation Educator in the colony I had been dispatched to.”

“Dispatched?”

Kolivan’s shoulder’s sagged as he turned to face Coran, leaning on the map’s platform. “I used to be a Galra soldier. That shouldn’t be so surprising.” He said it like he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

Coran could only stare at him. “Somehow I remain surprised.”

Kolivan sighed. “I was born during the Empire’s conquest of the universe. It had been the only reality that made sense. I followed blindly. Until I met her.”

“That sounds lovely, though,” Coran said. “Why would you say loving her was stupid?”

“Loving her wasn’t stupid, but it was a mistake. It made me stupid, delusional. It made me think impossible things, like escaping Zarkon’s empire being a feasible goal.”

“And what happened?”

“I understood that what the Empire was doing was wrong, she had already known. I told her of my plan to escape together and…” Kolivan closed his eyes briefly, like in a soft wince, “she told my commanding officer. She understood her position in the universe and I neglected to see that. I was resentful then, but I’ve made my peace with it since.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Quite a few centuries, I was very young.” Kolivan’s eyes darted away for just a tick before asking, “What about you?”

“The only one worth mentioning is Alfor,” Coran said with a half-smile, feeling a small thrill at the fact that Kolivan had asked a follow-up question. “He was Altea’s last king. I was his advisor, much like I had been Allura’s advisor. He never returned my feeling; I kept them quiet. That’s how that story goes.” Coran shrugged. He had known what were and weren’t his parts to play in Alfor’s life, had made peace with them. He marked his feelings down as a part of youth, silly and sweet and not worth pursuing. They became a part of him, easily overlooked by everything else that made him him.

“Do you still love him?”

The question surprised Coran, but it was easy enough to answer, “I suppose I do. In some way, but not as I did when he was alive… What about you? Do you still love Lenor?”

“Not in any way that I used to. I certainly appreciate her.” There was something in his face that changed. Like he felt uncomfortable thinking about it.

“Is…she still alive?”

“I have no reason to believe the opposite,” Kolivan said with a half-shrug.

“Oh.”

Kolivan chuckled. “I haven’t encountered her in all this time, however. I doubt we’ll find each other now.”

“I apologize for prying so much,” Coran said, feeling guilty for unearthing all this information that felt too intimate for his ears.

“I hardly entertain the thought, don’t worry about it,” Kolivan said easily enough. With that, he turned his attention to the map again and for a moment it felt like none of the conversation had occurred.

Coran was back to watching Kolivan, tracking his movements from across the room. He was struck by the similar pride with which he held himself, not unlike Representative Lurok. Yet, while similar in posture and demeanor, the men almost looked like they were from different species.

Lurok’s pride came from commanding and imposing. Kolivan’s, came from leading and guiding. They were similar enough that they could be confused with one another, but drastic enough to be able to tell the difference.

Some part of Coran’s mind even had trouble thinking of Kolivan as Galra. The word was too tainted to be associated with Kolivan. Yet Coran’s notions of the word didn’t stop reality from being what it was—Kolivan was Galra. Just as Galran as Lurok.

He sat with the thought for a while, trying to get used to it.

“Is something the matter?” Kolivan asked suddenly, looking up from the notes he’d begun to take. “You’ve been staring for a while.”

“N-nothing’s the matter,” Coran stuttered, feeling himself blush. “I was just caught up—thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Yes. I was thinking about how different you were from your peers.”

“Peers,” Kolivan echoed. “Hm, I suppose so. Red markings aren’t as common as they used to be.”

“Right,” Coran said offering a smile. Kolivan’s words brought his appearance to Coran’s attention. Yellow eyes, purple skin, white fur, red markings, a nasty scar along his face. All together, they made up Kolivan. Very obviously Galra, yet somehow someone Coran cherished.

He thought about how he never would’ve found that possible when he emerged from the pod chamber with Allura and the mice. He smiled at his ignorance. He was glad things could change so drastically.

* * *

Coran’s office door slammed shut, startling him awake. He raised his head, running a hand over his face. There was a quiet pitter-patter inside the room, small feet padding against the hard floor of the office.

The door opened again, this time with Alfor barreling through. He was taking big steps, looking around in an exaggerated manner.

“I heard a rumor that a princess was hiding in here,” Alfor said dramatically. Coran felt movement shifting by his leg and knew that Allura was hiding under his desk.

“I’ve heard no such rumor, Your Majesty,” Coran said, easily playing along.

“I find that hard to believe,” Alfor said continuing his slow, stompy search.

Allura was shivering with excitement under the desk, holding her breath as she waited to be found out.

“I assure you there’s no one here but you and me,” Coran said, scooting his chair slightly to the side so he could hide Allura better. She let out a small giggle.

“Aha!” Alfor said, pointing an accusatory finger at the desk. “Lying to me, are you!”

“Princess!” Coran said with a laugh. “You’re supposed to keep quiet.”

Coran pushed away from his desk and Allura popped from underneath, her giggling now louder.

“Sorry, Coran,” she said, not looking very sorry at all. She crawled onto his lap, trying to sit, before Alfor snatched her up into his arms. The princess was laughing in earnest now. Her joy was contagious, Coran finding himself smiling as he watched the scene unfold.

He stood from his desk and neared the royals as Allura put her little arms out for him. He took her from Alfor’s arms as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Now, why were you running, Princess?”

She hid her face in his neck with a giggle, shaking her head.

“Her governess hasn’t seen her all morning,” Alfor said, putting his hands on his hips. He was still being playful, no real heat behind his tone.

“But I don’t want to gooo,” Allura whined, holding on tighter to Coran.

“Sometimes we don’t get the things we want, my dear,” Alfor said, his tone softer. “And, trust me, no one wants morning lessons.”

“She could stay with me for a while and do her work,” Coran suggested. Allura perked up at that, nodding quickly at the idea.

“Yes! Please, Papa?”

Alfor seemed to think about it for a moment, but Coran knew his mind was already made up. “Alright. But! You can’t distract each other from work.” He pointed a finger at both of them in turn.

“Promise!”

“No promises, Your Majesty.”

Allura looked at Coran, a little alarmed and a little betrayed. He just gave her a mischievous smile and winked, making her crack a smile of her own.

“You two are something else,” Alfor said shaking his head with a chuckle. “I’ll be back for my child, Coran. I best find her in one piece when I get back.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Coran bowed awkwardly, still holding Allura. He made sure Alfor had closed the door behind him before whispering to the princess: “Want to go on an adventure?”

“Yes!” Allura said immediately, her eyes bright and the marks under her eyes shining in excitement. He loved making her smile like that.

Coran’s office door slammed shut, jolting him awake. He half expected to hear the pitter-patter of small feet. He ran a hand over his face, feeling his cheeks wet. He’d woken up crying. It had been a dream. A small sob escaped his chest as the grief washed over him again.

He’d give anything to live that moment once more. He’d give anything to have her back.

Coran needed to escape the castle, if only for a quintant. It was too crowded with memories that constricted his throat. He grabbed a shuttle and headed toward the nearest Atmosframe Pillar, the magnificent towers that held Altea’s artificial rings. The pillars were usually hubs for intergalactic communication and trade, or at least they had been.

Since the return of Altea, most of the universe had already advanced to the point of nearly matching Altea’s technological prowess. They were no longer needed as a provider of news, goods, technology, or science. The universe had others that were ahead in those fields. However, Altea’s specialty remained diplomacy, and in these times of transition, they were still needed.

Now the pillars had more local functions, serving as marketplaces for Alteans and the other residents of their solar system alike.

As Coran flew closer to the pillar’s shuttle bay, he could see the digital veil that was too far up in the atmosphere to be seen properly from the ground. The top of the tower glowed gently with the blue energy that powered the projection. The projections had aided the hubs, showing greetings in different languages and important news to diffuse to different planets. When Zarkon’s conquest began, it would project warnings and last known sightings of Galra forces. Now, it was an idle reminder of Altea’s past relevance to the universe.

Coran dismounted from his shuttle and made his way to the market floor. He perused through the kiosks, finding their selection to be goods he’d likely find in an Unilu swap moon—curiosities that would likely lead to trouble or things far too rare for the vendor to be aware of its true value. The sight honestly thrilled Coran.

He felt like a teenager again, wandering through the little shops, examining little trinkets that would likely have gotten him in trouble if his Pop-Pop had found them. He went to pick up a delicate looking box that simulated a small chest when his pocket vibrated. It was the phone Keith had insisted he’d carry around, an orange rectangle of glass.

Keith was calling.

Coran brought the device to his ear. “Ahoy?”

“Coran, there you are. Where are you? I’ve been looking for you all over the castle.”

“You’re in Altea?”

“Yes. I just got back from Earth. I thought we could go for lunch or something.”

 “We can, but I’m not in the castle right now. I’m at an Atmosframe Pillar.”

“Those have food courts, right?”

“This one does.”

“Alright. Send me your twenty. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Alright. Bye-bye.” Coran hung up and turned on his location beacon. He went to pick up the little box again. It appeared to be locked by an unmoving latch.

“Pretty little thing’s caught your eye, I see,” the vendor said, startling Coran a little. “A great find, one I can’t deny you. How about 100 GAC for it?”

This Coran knew how to do. “I’m sure it was worth that some time ago, but now looking at it?” He turned it over in his hand, the craftsmanship still impressive even overlooking the stuck latch. “It couldn’t be more than a quarter of that.”

“A quarter? Are you mad? It’s at least 50 GAC if you’re going to devalue it like that!”

“Thirty.”

“Forty-five.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Forty!”

“Forty, then,” Coran grinned. He handed the vendor his currency and pocketed the box.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, sir,” the vendor said, counting out the GAC.

Satisfied, Coran continued his meandering along the market floor. Keith didn’t take long to show up, bounding up next to Coran with so much enthusiasm Coran almost didn’t recognize him. Of course, it was Kosmo’s shadow that confirmed it was Keith.

“Good trip?” Coran asked with a confused chuckle.

“You could say that,” Keith smiled. Mighty good trip, then.

They made their way down to the food court, the area only slightly less spacious than the market floor. There were plenty of culinary options to choose from, most coming from different parts of the solar system. Coran and Keith stuck with the Altean shops, mostly out of habit and familiarity.

“I don’t know how you can drink that stuff,” Keith said, setting down his food at the table Coran had picked out.

“That stuff. It’s a fine brew,” Coran huffed into his pint. “Nec—”

“Nectar of the gods. Yeah, I know,” Keith shook his head with a smile, taking his seat.

“I remember a time when the Paladins actually had taste,” Coran grumbled.

“Ha llovido,” Keith said absently. Coran’s head snapped up, giving the lad a questioning look. “What?”

“Nothing, I don’t think,” Coran said with a smirk. “How was Earth?”

“Good,” Keith said, beginning to shovel food into his mouth. “Relieving? I was glad to see Shiro doing well.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What was that?” Keith chuckled.

“No, nothing,” Coran couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “I assume your visit gave you time to think.”

“It…did,” Keith said suspiciously. “What’s with that smile?”

“Since when do you know Spanish so well?”

“Spanish?” Keith seemed genuinely confused, but his face was turning pink. “I don’t know? A while? What’s that gotta do with me thinking?”

Coran waved his hand dismissively. “Have you thought of Kolivan’s offer?”

“I—yeah,” Keith seemed hopelessly confused, setting his fork down. “I’m taking him up on it, why?”

“Good, it was about time. You’ve earned it,” Coran said honestly.

“Thanks, Coran. Now stop being weird.”

“Will do.”

pt. 1 | pt.2 | pt. 4 >

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 2

The quintants that led up to the wedding were a bundle of stress and a test of patience. Hunk was in charge of catering, Keith was in charge of not losing the rings, and Lance was in charge of making sure Pidge didn’t go ballistic when the flowers on the centerpieces were wrong or any other detail were to be out of place.

Coran wondered if all weddings on Earth ran this chaotically.

The day itself ran smoother than Coran had expected, considering the buildup. The only hiccup was that Shiro was a babbling mess of nerves.

“I’m gonna mess up the vows,” he said for the tenth time, pacing the length of the room.

“You know them by heart,” Keith insisted. “You’ll be fine. We’re gonna be right there with you.”

Shiro didn’t look too sure.

“At the end of the day, lad, you love him, and he loves you,” Coran said. “You’re gonna go home married to him when the day is out. Isn’t that what matters?”

Shiro smiled, still nervous, but his confidence was building. “Yeah, it is.”

“Then let’s walk you down that aisle,” Coran said cheerily.

“Great,” Keith said with a clap. “I’ll get everyone in position, before he gets nervous again.”

Shiro jabbed Keith playfully before the sound of people scurrying around was heard from outside the dressing room. The guests were seated, and Pidge was doing the last round of finishing touches.

Just then, Krolia peered her head through the doorway looking frantic.

“Coran! There you are!”

“Is something wrong, Mom?” Keith asked as he stepped aside for her.

“I just need Coran really quick,” Krolia said, pulling Kolivan into the room. “He’s the only person alive that can figure this out.”

“Apologies,” Kolivan said. “I haven’t worn dress robes in a very long time. I forgot—um, I’m not sure where this goes.” He held up a piece of fabric.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Coran smiled. As he took Kolivan in, he noticed that his outfit did look incomplete. Coran hadn’t laid eyes on a traditional Galran dress robe in a very long time, but he remembered them well from all the balls he attended in Daibazaal.

“Are we ready in here?” Pidge asked from the door, seeming to have just appeared there.

“I’ll be just a tick,” Coran said. “Shiro, go wait for me outside, I won’t be long.”

“Krolia, please follow me,” Pidge said, exiting as quickly as she came. Krolia raised an eyebrow at Keith.

“It’s better if you do as she says,” Keith said gravely. With that, the only people left in the dressing room were Coran and Kolivan.

“This would be your military marker,” Coran explained, taking the scarf from Kolivan’s hand. “It indicated your loyalty to the Daibazaal crown. It goes around your neck, under your collar.”

“But I’m not loyal to the crown,” Kolivan pulled his neck away from Coran’s hands.

“It stopped meaning that a long time ago. By the time Altea was wiped from the star system it was just a fashionable accessory. Young boys that were not in the military would wear them. Could you take off your coat? It’s easier to wrap around then.”

Kolivan shrugged off his coat just enough to ease access to his neck and stayed silent for a tick. “Funny thing. Youth.” He vaguely gestured around them.

Coran nodded, concentrating on the knot of the scarf. “I remember being young and in love and all of that. It’s a sweet, silly thing.”

“That it is,” Kolivan had a small smile on his lips, his eyes were far away. It made Coran curious to know what he was remembering. With a light tone he added, “It’s also stupid.”

A surprised laugh escaped Coran. Kolivan’s smile grew wider. “Yes, it is,” Coran chuckled, fixing Kolivan’s collar. “You’re all set.”

Kolivan shrugged his coat back on. “Thank you, Coranic.”

“N-no problem,” Coran stuttered, flustered and confused by the name. Kolivan took a bow and exited the dressing room.

When Coran stepped outside, he found Lance pinning some flowers on Shiro’s shawl lapel. The smell hit him before he saw them properly: juniberries.

“Hey, Coran,” Lance greeted. “How do they look?”

“Um, good—great! They look—yeah,” Coran was transfixed by the flowers.

Lance’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad. These are from the farm back home.”

“They’re beautiful, Lance,” Coran said earnestly.

“Lance! Curtis’ cousin is waiting for you,” Pidge called. “She better not walk down alone.”

“Jeez, I’m coming,” Lance said, hurrying away.

The groomspeople, as Curtis and Shiro had agreed to call them, were in their places, Curtis walking in first with his mother. Coran could feel Shiro’s nervous energy beside him. He glanced over, about to try and calm him down, but he realized it was excitement when he saw Shiro’s expression.

“How do you feel?” Coran asked with a smile.

“Ready,” Shiro said, eyes focused forward. The sweet smell of juniberries hit Coran again.

“How do you feel?” Coran asked with a nervous smile.

Alfor seemed to be just as nervous. “Ready, I think.”

“You’ve met her before,” Coran said reassuringly.

“I have,” Alfor nodded in agreement. “She’s very beautiful. And brilliant.”

“Sounds like your type,” Coran fixed Alfor’s suit one last time, fussing over his medals and crown.

“I suppose she does,” Alfor regained some of his charm back. The families stood as Melenor appeared at the end of the aisle.

Coran straightened and plastered on his best smile. The smell of juniberries wafted over from Alfor. Coran tried his best to savor the familiarity. Tried his best to be happy for his King.

Coran sat down beside Curtis’ parents with a sigh. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to walk Allura down the aisle on her wedding day. A day he’d never get to see. He wondered if that would’ve happened at all. He wondered what kind of person she would’ve grown into. A wonderful one, he was sure. More than she already had been.

Coran’s heart felt heavy as he watched Shiro say his vows with confidence. He closed his eyes, trying to shoo away the emotions, but that only made him feel guilty. Guilty for not wanting Allura close, when, in fact, he did. Guilty for pushing her away, when he was the one that pulled her into the scenario in the first place.

She would’ve loved this. Maybe not for herself, but she would have loved today.

Coran watched the grooms’ first dance with some melancholy. They seemed so wrapped up in each other, talking and laughing as they shifted around, sometimes looking down at their feet. They looked happy; Coran couldn’t fathom how they must’ve felt.

He found his mood lightening with Keith’s approach. They weren’t really talking, but Keith’s presence was enough for Coran.

When the first dance was over, Curtis walked over to his mother with a charming smile and pulled her along for a dance. Coran chuckled at the sight, not noticing that Shiro was holding out a hand to him.

“Oh, I didn’t know we were dancing,” Coran said.

“I figured it was only right,” Shiro said with half a shrug.

Coran smiled, taking Shiro’s hand and pulling himself off his chair.

“You probably guessed this, but I don’t know these dances, my boy,” Coran said, looking down at their feet.

“That’s alright,” Shiro said easily. “Just follow my lead.”

Coran wasn’t sure how to do that. Shiro was walking in short steps, sometimes forward, sometimes to the side, and Coran could never tell which way he would go next. Which resulted in Coran stepping on Shiro’s toes constantly.

“Stop thinking so much,” Shiro chuckled, making Coran look up.

“Wh—how am I supposed to follow you?”

“Feel where my arms are pulling you.”

“Oh.”

His feet still stumbled, but he managed to not step on Shiro’s toes as much. He smiled at the floor as he figured out the pacing, noticing that the shifts in melody also had to do with Shiro’s timing.

“There you go,” Shiro smiled.

Coran laughed as Shiro spun him around. They danced until the song changed and Shiro walked Coran back to his chair.

“Thank you for today,” Shiro said, sitting down beside Coran.

“No need to thank me,” Coran smiled, looking up at the dance floor and seeing Lance and Keith had entered it without him noticing. Keith seemed like he was trying not to laugh at Lance as Lance talked and danced and stopped, like he was explaining something. “I’ve quiet enjoyed seeing you this happy.”

“I quite like being this happy,” Shiro said. “I like not waking up in a cold sweat every day, I like feeling whole, I like slow mornings where Curtis reads the paper and I make coffee. I’m really grateful for the mundane stuff in my life. I’m grateful for him.”

Shiro was watching Curtis talk with his father as his younger sister tugged on his sleeve. His sister won over his attention and pulled him to the dance floor, placing her bare feet on his shoes as he swayed them around, dancing for both of them. Shiro and Coran watched as Veronica asked for a dance with Curtis and his sister waddled over to where Shiro and Coran sat.

“Takashi,” she began somewhat shyly, “I was wondering…”

“Yes, June?” Shiro said with a smile.

“If I could…dance with you?” June was eyeing Shiro’s prosthetic, like she still wasn’t used to seeing it.

“It would be my pleasure,” Shiro stood and offered her his real hand, seemingly aware of her apprehension. June smiled and took his hand, bounding to the dance floor once more.

Coran watched as Shiro danced with June, faintly heard how she laughed with each spin. He found himself smiling, loving the sight of his family enjoying themselves, not burdened by worries about their safety or well-being. They were safe. They were happy. They were alive.

That was more than enough for Coran. He sighed contently. She would’ve loved this.

* * *

Coran found himself in a good place in his life. It was easy to breathe again. Easy to get up in the mornings. Even the Coalitions squabbles became a comfort, the stress it brought bringing a sense consistency in his life.

Galra Representative Lurok was one of those consistent inconveniences.

“The mass displacement of Galra citizens is an outrage!” Lurok said somewhere in the middle of his long-winded speech about honor and reparations, positioning the old Galran government as a victim of the ten thousand deca-phoebs of universal colonization. Coran’s attention caught at the word citizen. Lurok usually argued about ‘brave soldiers’ and ‘noble forces’ that were being repelled from the planets they had occupied.

Coran’s temple throbbed with the threat of the beginnings of a headache. Displacement of Galran citizens. A small, resentful part inside of him whispered, Good. He shook off the thought, a little alarmed at himself. These were people that found themselves without a home because of crimes they didn’t commit. They weren’t to blame for the state of the universe.

Representative Aihpos cued up some graphs and charts, taking the lead on the Galra’s time to present the ongoing issues their people faced.

“As is evident, the safe houses provided in Daibazaal have reached their maximum capacity. In the millennia of the planet’s absence, the Galra population grew beyond Daibazaal’s housing capabilities. Simply put, there is no place for our citizens to turn to without upsetting the ecological balance of our newly recovered planet.”

Aihpos tended to be the voice of reason between the two representatives, but sometimes even her sound logic leaned into Lurok’s agenda of painting themselves as the oppressed instead of the oppressors.

Right then, however, Coran found himself leaning forward, wanting to hear more.

“Most of these individuals have lived on these planets for generations,” Aihpos continued. “Entire communities and ages of tradition were uprooted overnight with the tragic fall of the Empire.” Coran cringed at the adjective. “Their concept of ‘home planet’ has never been Daibazaal. Very few people alive even remember Daibazaal. Our citizens are being displaced from their homes, and they have no shelter to turn to that their government can provide.”

“And what do you propose?” Curtis asked. Coran’s eyes flew to Lurok, watching for his reaction. Sure enough, Lurok’s nostrils flared. This was usually the part where the Galran’s proposals were shut down, too outlandish or bold to be considered seriously.

“Nothing that isn’t beyond your power to grant,” Aihpos said, as she always did. “Allow our citizens to remain where they have set down their roots. Grant them protection from those that wish the contrary. Preserve their dignity.”

That’s surprisingly reasonable, Coran found himself thinking.

“Can I see your proposal’s draft?” Emi piped in. Lurok sat up straighter, like the question surprised him.

“C-certainly,” Aihpos said, somewhat scrambling for the document. She handed Emi the document as he thanked her with a bright smile.

“I believe this draft’s revision should be a top priority,” Emi said to Coran as he glanced over it. Coran nodded, looking over the document in Emi’s hands. “I propose a motion to make it so.”

“I second it,” Commander Holt said.

“Opposition?” Coran asked the other representatives. Their silence was his answer. “The motion passes.

Aihpos and Lurok shared a stunted look, like they couldn’t believe they got away with it. It was the only crack in their usually proud and composed demeanor. One that always seemed too close to that of Galran generals, their attitudes stubborn and dead set on their objectives. Coran always had his guard up around them, having the dreadful feeling that their loyalty had never shifted away from Zarkon.

His mistrust in them was inevitable, but he tried his best look past it. These were different times. They hadn’t given him any real reason to not be considered trustworthy. It was only his preconceived notions that made him doubt their character.

He realized that this struggle had never extended itself to the Blade of Marmora. Their relationship had gotten off to a rough start, but once they were proper allies, he trusted them blindly.

This should be the case with Lurok and Aihpos, but something about them got under his skin. Maybe it was the fact that while Zarkon ruled, they never opposed him; maybe it was the fact that they no longer served the Empire because the option to do so was taken from them.

It made Coran uneasy.

That uneasiness continued when he noticed the vague wording in the proposal. It was too open to interpretation, words could be twisted, motives were unclear. He brought it up in a revision meeting with Lurok.

“Representative Lurok, your proposal states here in Section 3, Article D, that Galra citizens are to be ‘assigned guard to make up for lack of security.’”

“Yes,” Lurok agreed easily.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“The Galran people face the threat of violence on a regular basis nowadays,” Lurok supplied. “Forces would be deployed to guarantee their safety.”

“Forces? Whose?”

“Well, ours, of course! Who else would look after their wellbeing properly?”

On paper, the idea seemed rational, but what they were actually proposing was something different. They were using their citizens—or so it seemed—who were scattered all over the universe, to deploy their forces again. Forces that had been dismantled and repelled, on planets that were promised peace and the lack of Galran soldiers.

“That move would violate treaties to which the Coalition is bound,” Coran said firmly. “Find a different solution. Contact each planet, see what can be done.”

Lurok’s lip twitched, his chest puffing. “Very well,” he gritted out.

They went down the draft, slowly figuring out the proposal’s true intention and marking the articles that would need amendment.

“Have Representative Aihpos look over these changes,” Coran handed Lurok the document. “We want to help, but it must be done within a reasonable margin.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Lurok took the papers, wrinkling his nose at them like they’d done something unsavory.

“We look forward to hearing from you,” Coran said with a stiff smile.

Lurok only grumbled.

< pt. 1 | pt.3 >

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt.1 (ao3 link)

Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe had loved many things throughout his life. He had loved singing, he had loved being of service to his kingdom, his King…oh, how he had loved his King. He liked to say that there were no secrets between him and King Alfor, but Coran’s affections never saw the light of day beyond his loyalty and guidance.

Coran had lost Alfor twice. The first time was on his wedding day, when he married the woman he’d been promised to. The second time was the last day he would ever see Alfor alive again. He listened with rapt attention the orders he was to execute: make sure Allura is safe, make sure the Castle of Lions is ready, make sure something, anything survived. Coran had followed through, heart heavy, dutifully shifting his devotion from his king to the King’s daughter.

Of all the people Coran had loved, Allura was the one closest to his heart. She grew to be like a daughter to him, and she saw him like a second father. Allura was his last piece of home and he, hers. She was his drive, his hope for a better universe, his light…

And then, she was gone.

“She—she saved everyone, everything,” Shiro said, his voice a mix of awe and pain. The rest of the Paladins remained in somber silence, quiet hiccups echoed softly in the Atlas bridge, and silent tears ran down their faces. Coran didn’t really believe them. Allura had been speaking through the comms just a few vargas ago. She couldn’t just be gone. It couldn’t be that simple.

When Coran had lost Alfor, the sky was coming down on them, people were dying, horrible, tortured screams were heard from the distance, their home was obliterated; everything felt properly hopeless, despondent.

The sounds of tragedy followed tragedy. It didn’t make sense that they had finally, truly saved the universe and the only thing Coran could feel was an abysmal nothing through his chest. He felt light in his disbelief, almost like he was removed from his own body. But the crushing reality slammed down on him when he took notice of Lance.

Lance had new marks on his cheeks, Altean marks. Coran felt his knees give out and slam on the floor. He stared at the Paladins’ boots as the quiet shock faded out, and the roaring pain his heart felt surged and rocked his core, his being. His Princess was gone. Just gone. No body, no grave.

It felt like the world had been yanked from under his feet, it felt like he would never have proper footing again. Like—a wail rang through the suffocating silence of the bridge. Coran felt a swarm of arms around him, the people that had become his family trying their best to hold him up, and he collapsed.

Damn my life. The thought had become an unintentional mantra. He saw her everywhere. Every corner he turned, he thought he saw the flap of her dress, a lock of her hair, the echo of her laugh. He saw her in the pinks of his suit, in the Altea she brought back, in the people they had once thought lost. Every time, his heart would traitorously lighten and quickly fall back down, renewing the ache in his chest.

He saw her in the Paladins. He saw her in Lance, in his kindness and patience; in Keith, in his noble heart and need to help others; in Shiro’s leadership and resolve; in Hunk’s understanding of others; in Pidge’s eagerness to see change through. Seeing them pained Coran. They were a living reminder of how she was, how she lived, but they weren’t her. They could never be.

His heart was tired. Tired of how Allura’s name would slip out when he talked with Romelle, tired of the guilt he felt for doing so, tired of the lump in his throat. Tired of his inescapable grief.

Damn my life.

It didn’t surprise him when he slowly fell behind on his duties, slowly stopped going to meetings, slowly caved in on himself. He couldn’t pretend to be fine, pretend he’d moved on. He accepted this as his new reality, resigned to the weight of his grief.

What did surprise him was the hand that pulled him out of his self-destructive void.

There was a knock at his door.

“Coran?” Romelle’s voice rang through. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Emi can handle Curtis, Romelle,” he called back.

The door to his room slid open. Coran resisted the urge to grumble at the intrusion, but immediately straightened when he saw who was with Romelle.

“Keith.” It took Coran a tick to register that the Red Paladin was really there. “Hello.”

“Hey, Coran. Thank you, Romelle.” Keith stepped into the room, looking around, inspecting its state. “I’d rather avoid small talk, if you don’t mind.”

Coran nodded. “Please.” He gestured for Keith to sit at his desk. Keith pulled out the chair and sat, looking like he wasn’t sure where to start. He leaned forward on his elbows and took a breath.

“We’re—I’m worried. I’m sure the others are worried, too, but…it’s like they’re not there. Allura’s death fucked us over and we’re not even talking about it.”

Coran winced at his bluntness.

“Shiro’s drinking, no one’s heard from Hunk in months, Pidge hasn’t slept in who knows how long, and Lance—” Keith swallowed around the crack in his voice. “I’ve never seen them so broken.” He ran a hand over his face. “We’re not okay, Coran. And neither are you.”

“Why are you here, Keith?”

“We need to move forward.”

Coran grunted and stood. “That’s certainly rich coming from you.”

“Coran—”

“Were you not the one that refused to move forward when Shiro disappeared?”

“That was different,” Keith said in a level voice.

“Exactly how is it—”

“Allura isn’t coming back.”

The silence that stretched over them was taunt and uncomfortable.

“We need you,” Keith said gently. “The Empire fell, the universe is healing; she would want us to savor it, wouldn’t she?” Keith stood from his chair, seemingly uncertain of his next move. “I know what it’s like to lose someone close, someone that’s family. The first time, I was alone. I don’t remember my dad very well, but I remember how alone I felt after he died. And then—Shiro made things easier. Then I lost Shiro, too, and it felt like I couldn’t keep anyone close; family was something I wasn’t meant to have… But I found you guys and when I lost Shiro again it was easier. You made carrying that pain easier.”

Coran felt a rush of melancholy and pride, seeing how much Keith had grown and wishing Allura could see how far he's come. His heart broke all over again and, this time, Keith was there to catch him as he crumbled.

“I can’t do this without her—”

“You can, we’ve got you.” Keith held him tighter.

“I want the pain to stop, I need it to.”

“I know.”

Coran felt so small, like in his younger quintants when his Pop-Pop would soothe him after a bad scrape in the castle grounds. But this scrape felt too big and too bad, like it would never close up properly, like everything would just spill out and drain him. His heart was just about ready to give up.

But Keith didn’t let him. He stuck around for the next couple of movements, making sure Coran ate and got some fresh air at the very least. Having Keith around gave him a sense of normalcy he’d been needing, slowly beginning to balance himself out. Some quintants were harder than others, but those became increasingly scarcer.

Coran’s head cleared enough for him to notice how Keith was putting up a strong front for Coran’s benefit. The Red Paladin occasionally slipped, and Coran could see the paranoia that laid beneath the surface. Keith was particularly jumpy around the new Alteans that roamed about the castle, not being used to how crowded the grand halls now were.

One blessedly quiet afternoon, on the bridge, Keith was working from his Paladin seat as Coran tinkered away on the control panel, running the castle diagnostics. Coran sighed, relishing the idle familiarity, something in his chest feeling suspiciously close to serenity.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?” He sounded absorbed in the report he’d been reading.

“I don’t think I ever said thank you.”

He was met with a few beats of silence. Coran looked up from his spot on the floor and saw Keith covering his eyes with his hand. Keith shook his head ever so slightly and took a shaky breath.

“It’s really nothing, Coran.” His voice was more composed than he looked.

“It’s not nothing, my boy,” Coran said firmly. “Without you, I probably would still be locked in my room. I’d probably still be in bed, honestly. And Allura would’ve hated that. You were right, you know. She wants us to savor this, her accomplishments, the healing of the universe.”

“Right.”

“I don’t want to keep inconveniencing the Blade of Marmora by keeping you here in Altea.”

“Kolivan said it wasn’t a problem,” Keith said, scrubbing his face and looking over to Coran.

“I doubt he said that.”

Keith cleared his throat. “He said I could return to my regular duties the moment you return to coordinating the Galactic Coalition’s first meeting.”

Coran faltered at that. “How does he even know about that?”

“Curtis mentioned it a few movements ago during a call where I was checking up on Shiro,” Keith said. “Kolivan overheard but didn’t think much of it until I came over. Then he ordered me to stay. Not that I wouldn’t have stayed otherwise.”

Coran felt himself smile fondly at Keith’s words. He was such a sweet lad, sweeter than he led on. “Then I’ll get on that tomorrow,” Coran said with a shrug, returning to his comfortable tinkering.

“You really don’t have to,” Keith said quickly. “I like being back here again.”

“The Alteans make you jump like a Puigan Rabbit, Keith. I’ve enjoyed having you around again, but I can tell you’re itching to get back to your routine.”

“Coran—”

“I’ll be fine. I promise. And you can always visit.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I can stay another movement if you’d like.”

“I would like that, but as you said, we need to move on,” Coran said, taking a steading breath. “The Team needs us, too. We need to be there for them like you were with me.”

Keith smiled; a soft, rare thing Coran hardly saw these days. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

He still missed Allura, but it wasn’t a crippling sensation anymore. On hard mornings, it was like feeling that empty hole in his chest again, but only in moments, not in prolonged days and nights. It was becoming bearable. Peace had snuck up on him, a pleasant surprise he hadn’t expected to see in a very long time.

* * *

The deca-phoebs had been gradually kinder to Team Voltron. They slowly became more themselves: Hunk’s passion for cooking was revived, starting a new project called Happy Lives; Shiro started seeing a therapist the VA provided; Lance was devoting his time to growing juniberries on Earth; Pidge was working with her brother on some AI software; and Keith was visiting Coran every movement he could, slowly becoming an important leader in the Blade.

Coran had transformed the Voltron Coalition into the Galactic Coalition. It was an interesting shift, going from uniting to face a common enemy to finding himself in the middle of diplomatic squabbles, all too similar to the ones he endured beside Alfor.

As he usually did, Coran wanted to do too many things at the same time. Emi, Commander Holt, and Senior Officer Colt refrained him from doing so. They set boundaries and established lines so Coran would stay focused on the fraction of the galaxy he could help. They helped Coran lay out a system that worked and remained functional: two representatives per planet, one planet representing its system. System representatives were put on a rotational schedule, eventually having each system would stop by the Coalition’s table to present their qualms. Emergency sessions could be called to attend a planet’s individual needs. Everything was meant to run as smoothly as possible.

Not only was Coran surprisingly satisfied with the schedule lay out—something he would always find himself fussing over until Allura would’ve had to pull him away so he could relax—but he found himself happy to share the weight of the work. Having been the Royal Family’s advisor usually had left him with a lot of work, work he had been entrusted to execute. He took pride in that trust. He’d never thought he’d see the quintant where he trusted others with his work, where he was able to loosen his grip on his duties and was willing to delegate.

Even with all the delegation he was comfortable doing, Coran found his quintants pleasantly busy. Keith’s visits were the highlight of his movement. He reminded Coran to take breaks, made him stop working and pulled him out of his office.

They would walk around the castle grounds and Coran would remember when he was a young boy, jumping around and exploring the unfinished parts of the castle. He would remember when Allura was a little girl and he told Keith of all the kinds of trouble she’d get into; running after the little critters she found around the grounds, hiding around the castle during the balls King Alfor would throw and scaring her parents in the process. He told Keith of how her mother would walk with her through the garden and Allura would jump at the sight of a spider but coo at the sight of a caterpillar. The stories poured out of him, movement after movement. The first time she brought Platt, Chulatt, Plachu, and Chuchule into his office and scared him half to death, the first time he saw her potential as a leader, the first time she led a meeting alongside her father.

Keith’s visits always left Coran looking back fondly at the past. He would still tear up at the thought of her, but his love had begun to overshadow his grief. He could laugh at the silly memories and smile at the gentler ones. His heart felt lighter—or less heavy.

Sometimes, Keith came with fellow Blades, sometimes he came with Kolivan—who always had business elsewhere in the castle—but Keith always tried to make time for Coran, even if it was just for lunch. It eventually became the case that the colors of the Blade uniforms were enough to brighten up Coran’s day.

On quintants when Emi took care of the Coalition’s squabbles, Coran would draft and tinker away in his office, keeping up maintenance and adding improvements to his Pop-Pop’s legacy. It was on one of these quintants that Coran spotted the blue and gray tarps of the Blade’s uniform and was already smiling before he looked up from his blueprints.

It was Kolivan, standing somewhat rigidly at the door, his expression as stoic as the first quintant they met.

“Hello, Kolivan,” Coran greeted. He noticed how no one else was walking through the door. “Where’s Keith?”

“He asked me to come and excuse him this phoeb,” Kolivan said with a short apologetic bow.

“Oh, he could’ve just sent a message,” Coran said a little confused. “No need for you to come all this way.”

“He also said that you required company,” Kolivan said, not a hint of tone in his voice. Coran couldn’t tell how Kolivan felt about that, but heat slowly creep up Coran’s face.

“Oh! Did he now? I never meant to impose on your schedule,” Coran said hurriedly. “Honestly, it’s f—”

Kolivan held up a hand.

“Keith wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t know I was lacking in things to do,” Kolivan said, his lips quirking upwards in a stiff smile. Coran had seen Kolivan smile before, knew he was capable of laughing and beaming proudly. So, while he didn’t know the man very well, he knew enough to tell he wasn’t very comfortable.

“I trust how Keith manages and uses his time. He wouldn’t visit if it wasn’t important, it’s not a chore for me to do, but a duty to fulfill. Please be at ease.”

Coran felt a flurry of emotion mixed between flustered and flattered. Important. Coran was important to Keith. His well-being was a priority in Keith’s long list of responsibilities and duties to oversee. That dear boy.

Coran cleared his throat and took a breath. “Well, if that’s how you see it, I won’t insist on the contrary.”

Kolivan nodded and took a step inside the office. He glanced around, much like Keith had that first visit a few deca-phoebs ago. “Keith didn’t give detailed instructions. What is it he usually does?”

“We talk,” Coran shrugged. “Check in on how the other is doing, catch up on current projects and the like, reminisce on past times.”

Kolivan’s ear twitched and Coran laughed.

“I don’t expect any of that from you,” Coran assured him. “We can just sit here in silence. I don’t mind the company while I work.”

“Did I interrupt something?”

“Nothing of political importance, if that’s what worries you,” Coran said with a smile. Kolivan’s shoulders seemed to untense. “Come sit. Sit, sit.” Coran gestured to the armchair in front of his desk. Kolivan moved dutifully across the room, taking a seat, and inspecting the objects on Coran’s desk.

Beside the memory files that were stacked to the side and digital filer that contained the Coalition’s current reports, Coran had a few objects he was, if only, a tad self-conscious of: five Altean toys. The more obvious one was Allura’s favorite when she was younger: a small Klanmüirl stuffed plush; the second rested as a disk-shaped platform, but contained various puzzles displayed by holograms (he’d carried it everywhere as a boy, which was evident in its worn edges); the third was a simple spinning top he kept around for when he got anxious and needed to fidget with something; the fourth was the miniature for his Monsters and Mana character, Dakin the Powerful Wizard; the last was a gift form Alfor, the Altean version of the Olkari Cube, the Secret Keeper.

Kolivan’s eyes lingered on the Secret Keeper with a spark of curiosity, eyes darting to the actual Olkari Cube Coran had been gifted in Olkarion, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he asked, “W-what were you working on?

Coran smiled, appreciating the effort. “Drones,” he said cheerily. “The idea came to me when I was talking to dear Number Five last movement. She had mentioned her drone Rover in passing and I remembered how helpful the fella had been. So I thought, I’m sure I can design some for the castle, have them run around, help officials with tasks and storing data.

“I’m drafting up a few models before I send them to Pidge. A few fire walls here and there in their programming and they should be more secure than the original Rover.”

“I forgot that was in your skill set,” Kolivan said honestly. “It’s easier to see you as a politician these quintants.”

“Well, they don’t call me the Coranic Mechanic for nothing! I was head engineer of this castle for quite some time. Even as I fulfilled my role as royal advisor,” Coran beamed proudly.

“I didn’t realize,” Kolivan said with a nod that was almost a small bow.

“And what are your current affairs?”

“Accompanying you,” he said simply.

“Right, yes,” Coran said, feeling a little silly for asking.

The silence that followed that visit was uncomfortable at first but slowly shifted into something more familiar. Kolivan was a calming presence in Coran’s office. His gaze loitered around different parts of the room, allowing Coran to focus on the last set of notes for his drone drafts.

After some time, Coran looked up from his digital filer to find Kolivan standing near the window, looking out over the castle grounds.

“Keith usually leaves around this time,” Coran said.

“Has my company been sufficient?”

“It has,” Coran said with a smile.

“Very well,” Kolivan bowed. “I’ll leave you to your duties. Good day.”

And with that, Kolivan took the calm with him, Coran soon becoming jittery by himself. He wondered what it was about Kolivan that soothed him as he’d worked. He reached for the spinning top as he stared at the spot Kolivan had been standing in. It had been so familiar…

A playful smile and bright eyes flashed in Coran’s head.

Somedays… somedays I wish you’d open that already.

Coran shook his head, shooing way the silly memory.

The reunion they had every deca-phoeb was getting closer. Coran had thought that maybe the Paladins needed each other’s support around this time of the deca-phoeb. So, he organized an annual reunion to get through the date. Almost naturally, they started celebrating Allura’s life instead of grieving her death. It became a quintant to look forward to.

Team Voltron together once more. The thought made him smile.

Pidge, Lance, and Shiro were the first to arrive, followed shortly by Hunk. Keith was the last to get there, apologizing for being held back by a mission.

They spent the afternoon catching up and swapping stories. Coran noticed near the end of dinner that Shiro hadn’t stopped smiling since he arrived. There was something in him that was giddy, even. As happy as the sight made Coran, it was curious and odd for Shiro to be like this. Keith seemed to notice it too, occasionally looking over at Coran as if to make sure they were both seeing the same thing.

“Is something on your mind, Shiro?” Coran finally spoke up.

“Hm?” Shiro looked up, still smiling. “Well, not really—I was gonna wait until after dinner, but…”

That got the rest of the table’s attention, all eyes now on Shiro. He sat up straighter, clearing his throat.

“Um, alright,” Shiro looked around, his eyes lingering on Keith. “You guys are my family and I wanted you to be the first to know. You all know that Curtis and I have been seeing each other for some time now and, well, we’re engaged.” Shiro gave half a shrug, looking down bashfully at the table. The news registered a beat later.

“Dude, that’s awesome!”

“Congratulations!”

“That’s great to hear!”

“That’s wonderful news!”

“Thank you, guys,” Shiro beamed. “I wanted to ask you something, too. I was wondering if you could be my groomsmen—groomspeople? I want you guys to be up there with me.” Shiro was looking at his team. At the people he’d fought alongside with and defended so many times. Then he looked up at Coran. “And I wanted to ask you if you’d do me the honor of walking down the aisle with me.”

Shiro was met with a chorus of excited ‘of course’s and ‘yes’s, but his eyes remained on Coran. Coran, who was currently at a loss for words, eyes tearing up. He stood from his chair and rushed to Shiro’s side of the table, hugging him tightly.

“Of course, I’d love to—I’d be honored, I—” his words were cut off by the force of Shiro hugging him back.

“Thank you,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. Then he pulled away and looked around the table, “To all of you.”

After that, the conversation shifted to talk of wedding preparations and comments about ‘making sure Curtis is good enough for you,’ which Shiro dismissed with a chuckle and a shake of his head. Coran watched the scene unfold fondly and thought: Allura would’ve loved this.

Coran distantly realized that had been the least painful thought he’d had all day.

pt. 2 >

[bicsbec]

Natural Melodies

Chapter 5: encore (ao3 link)

Raine had always swept Eda off her feet. With their poetry and serenades and all the game her dorky bard could carry. Even now, Raine continued to sweep her off her feet. On the mornings they looked like death and braced with her Luz and Hunter's irate humors. When they played with King or entertained him with magic, making Francois dance little jigs. When they were drunk and blushing and slurring the cheesiest pickup lines before passing out on the couch while the kids were at sleepovers. It made Eda swoon. 

Even watching them shout at a game did things to Eda's heart.

"Look at that! He picked it up like it was nothing, I wish I could have taught him something like that," Raine was saying. "Are you listening, Owl Lady?"

"Hm? Yes, teaching. What about it?"

Raine smirked, seemingly knowing where her thoughts had been. "You're better at it than me," they said simply, shrugging and making King bounce on their shoulders. King was focused on the Flyer Derby tournament semifinals. The Emerald Entrails were well ahead in the scoring, most flags down.

Eda was mostly focused on Raine’s hand on her knee. They pulled it away, still expecting to carry out their conversation with her.

"What makes you say that?"

"Have you seen Hunter play?"

"Yeah, yes . Of course I have."

"Have you noticed how he applies wild magic to his plays?"

"What about it? The other kids have started using wild magic as well."

"He's innovative, thinks on his feet. Like you. You taught him that, through example and instruction. You should think about it."

"Think about what?"

" Teaching , love. You'd be great."

Eda almost recoiled at the thought. She must've made a face because Raine was laughing. 

"You've been teaching Luz since she stepped foot on the Boiling Isles," they pointed out.

"I mean, sure, but Luz is—she isn't just a student, she's my kid."

"Yeah, she's your kid alright," Raine said, looking over to where Luz and Amity were cheering. 

"GO, GUS, GOOO. AVENGE VINEY," Luz screamed as Amity watched with furious focus, shoulders tense. Luz froze and the whole stand held its breath.

Gus was closing in, Willow had cleared a path, Hunter swung around to block their exit, the opposing player had nowhere to go.

"Yes, yes, yes . YES. LET'S GO!" 

Amity jumped up, Luz shaking her shoulders, both screaming with the crowd. King jumped off of Raine’s shoulders, climbing over to Luz's. 

Eda was on her feet, too, cheering along, the excitement beyond contagious. " Those are my kids! "

She could see Raine’s point.

Luz and Amity ran into the field, crushing their friends in a hug. Hunter and Skara were lifting Gus up on their shoulders, Viney was pouring potion over Willow's shoulders; they were going to the finals. Eda loved the smile on their faces.

Hooty was away with Lily, doing Titan knows what at Lily's museum. King and Hunter were visiting the Human Realm, staying with Camila, Luz, and Vee. They had the Owl House to themselves and they were going to make good use of it.

"Eda, move ." 

"I'm coming, give me a second."

"It's starting."

" Pause it. "

"I can't."

"Alright, alright," she finally plopped on the couch, apple blood in hand.

"Did you bring me any?"

"Uh, next commercial break."

"We're getting a streaming service."

"Are we, Poet Unemployed?"

Raine might as well have harrumphed, settling back onto the couch as the novella started.

With no kids home, they had monopoly over the crystal ball. Without King to make fun of the show, Eda could watch her crappy soaps in peace, free of judgment. She and Raine usually made quips of the show and its characters, anyway. It was a guilty pleasure. They knew it was terrible writing, but that's what made it fun.

"Wait, why is his cousin trying to kill her," Eda piped up, not recalling the events that led to the pursuit. 

"She found out the cousin was responsible for the ghouls at the ball," Raine explained hurriedly. 

" What? When?"

"Last episode."

"No, last episode was the hostage situation."

Raine was quiet, focused on the show, looking suspiciously nervous.

" Raine , last episode was the hostage situation, right?"

"Last week, yes."

"She doesn't find out then."

"No."

" Raine. "

It was remarkable how Raine had managed to keep their cover with Terra and her potion for so long when they were proving to be rather shit under the pressure of their girlfriend's gaze.

"There was a double showing this week! You were at the market! I couldn’t record it and I wasn't going to not see it," Raine cracked. 

Eda scooted away from them dramatically. "You traitor. You watched an episode without me?"

"You would've done the same!"

"I would've rather chopped my other arm off. I won't stand this slander. " Eda curled up on the opposite end of the couch, decidedly distant from Raine. Admittedly, she would've done the same, but she wasn't about to admit that when she could lord this over them for weeks to come.

" I'm sorry. I wouldn't have even known if King hadn't been scrolling through channels," Raine pleaded, crawling closer to Eda.

Eda put out her foot to stop them. "Eh, eh, you don't get to blame this on King."

" Love, I'm sorry. How can I make it up to you?" Laughter bled into their voice.

Eda fought back a smile. This was a serious negotiation. Very serious. "You could fold the laundry."

Raine’s eyes narrowed. "I already do that."

" My laundry," Eda amended. "My arm gets tired and I don't have magic to help." Eda had already adapted well enough to living with just one arm, but laundry was still tricky and had always been annoying to deal with.

"Fine," they agreed, moving over her foot. "How long?"

"Two months."

" Two months? No, absolutely not," they pulled her out of her corner and into their arms, nuzzling her neck. 

Eda shrieked a laugh, caught off balance. " Rainestorm! "

"A month." 

Eda struggled to get out, still laughing. Raine was laughing, too.

" No! "

"Three weeks, then."

Unacceptable. Eda had to get the upper hand somehow. The harpy came out only a second later, surprising even herself with her ease of command.

"Woah," Raine was blushing under her, where they'd ended up pinned by her added weight. "This is hardly fair."

"A month and a half," she purred, her voice merging with the Owl Beast's growl.

"Five weeks," Raine said, still looking somewhat dazed by her appearance. 

"Done deal, Whispers," she grinned. She picked up the smallest of sounds from Raine’s throat, not of fear but of nervous enthusiasm. 

Eda dipped her head experimentally, just to see what they'd do. Raine reached up, almost instinctively, eyes on her lips. Their blush deepened when they realized she'd stopped moving closer.

"Are you teasing me right now?" 

"You want to kiss me like this?"

They pulled her down with their hands, kissing her firmly, licking at her bottom lip. "Sure," they said, pulling away. "I'd want to do a few other things, too."

They had never messed around with Eda in her harpy form. Eda wasn't even sure how safe that would be. But Raine seemed eager and it sounded really fucking fun.

Eda grinned. "Then that's a done deal, too."

Raine honest-to-Titan shivered. 

"Hey, Eda?"

"Hm?"

"Get me that apple blood, we're already in the next commercial break."

"Oh, shit. Already?" Eda sat up on the couch. She didn't even try to get out of her harpy form before going to the kitchen to get Raine’s drink and a bottle of elixir. 

"We're getting a streaming service," she said as she plopped down again, this time making Raine bounce on the cushion. They crawled onto her lap as they took their drink from her hand, settling comfortably between her legs.

Cute.

"Thank Titan," they sighed, utterly content in their seat. 

Eda knew this face. It was their I'd-rather-shit-in-my-hands-and-clap-twice-than-perform-tonight face. The only thing that had changed about it were the age lines around their mouth. But it was the same furrowed brow, same fidgeting hands swiping nervously under their nose and removing and replacing their glasses, the same squinting and pacing. The only thing missing was Raine saying—

"I'm nauseous. I don’t think I can do this."

Eda withheld the profound urge to cackle. She knew them so well.

"You've said that a thousand times."

"It's felt true a thousand times."

"You'll do great. Think of it as a retirement concert. One last performance."

"I'm going to be sick."

" Rainestorm , once you're up there, you're a natural."

Raine scrunched up their nose. "Hardly."

"We're gonna be right there, right at the front."

Raine took a steadying breath. It never worked to tell them that everything would be okay. It would be like lying. There had been times when Raine’s stage fright got the better of them, so Eda could never reassure them of a positive outcome.

"Alright, alright. One last performance."

Truth was, the performance wasn't until later that night, but Raine was always nervous from the very first day of the week the concert was due to the last second before starting the performance. They always functioned best when they were distracted for long periods of time. Which was exactly the plan.

"Hooty reporting for duty, hoot hoot," Hooty shrilled, popping up behind Raine and scaring them out of their skin. "Sorry, Raine."

"Hooty here will provide a distraction for you, so you stop thinking about tonight," Eda informed them. "King and I will pick up Luz from school and Hunter will come over with Camila after she gets out of work."

Raine still nervously quirked their mouth, their index wiping uselessly under their nose. 

"Y'know, Hunter told me he'd be helping Camila with possums, can you believe it?" Eda added, mainly for their amusement, but also because she couldn't quite believe it herself. Raine raised their eyebrows at that.

"Those are real?"

"I don't think so."

"You'd think he'd post about it," Raine said, getting out their Penstagram. "Here, look."

Sure enough, there was a picture of Camila holding up a possum. The caption read Mamá has the coolest job #haterswillsayitsfake. 

"I need to talk to Camila," Eda said, still staring incredulously at the screen.

"What you need to do is go pick up Luz," Raine said, managing to put away the scroll. "Go, don't keep her waiting."

"Yeah, alright."

"Now I shall regale you with the Hooty Stand Up Comedy Special, written by yours truly, Hooty," Hooty said, wrapping himself around Raine and dropping them on the couch.

"King, we gotta bounce!" Eda shouted up the stairs. She was not going to be subjected to whatever Hooty considered comedy. Luckily, King was speeding down the stairs and in a few moments they were flying through the door with a quick, "See ya, love you, byeee!" to Raine. 

The Human Realm was as rowdy as ever, people bustling through and going about their day. Eda was certain she might've killed someone if she drove a car to pick up Luz and Owlbert was out of the question, so they had to walk. 

The school wasn't too far from Luz's house, but it made for a decent walk. King had already been to the Human Realm a few times before, but never with Eda. He was excitedly telling her all the things Luz had shown him, some things she already knew, but others were new.

They were already reaching the stone walls that marked the school perimeter when King said, "Luz hates school, says she struggles too much with the subjects."

"What? That doesn't make any sense. She's the most enthusiastic kid in the world about school. We had fights over her enrolling at Hexside."

"Yeah, magic school. Human school is a drag, apparently."

Oh.

Well, that was something. 

Just then, Luz was exiting the building walking alongside Vee. Vee spotted them first.

"Hi, Miss Eda," she greeted. "Hey, King."

"Eda!" Luz threw herself into Eda’s arms, hugging her tightly.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm here to pick you up for Raine’s concert tonight. Remember that your mom and Hunter will join us later."

"So, I have the house to myself? Sweet," Vee said, picking up King from the ground.

"You can come along if you want. Right, Eda?"

"'Course. As long as you're comfortable,  Vee."

"I could peek in with Mom and Hunter, just to say hi," Vee said with a casual shrug, a very well put mask in Eda's opinion.

"Then let's get going," Eda said as the sisters led the way back home. 

Eda loved how Luz was now surrounded by siblings and parents that look out for her best interests and encourage her to pursue the things she's curious and passionate about. She was glad Luz had the experience of Hexside, a positive association with formal education. She wanted Luz to have more, not just the wild magic lessons she could provide when prompted.

Maybe Raine had been on to something. Maybe Hexside and Glandus and St. Epiderm didn't need to be where magic education stopped. 

Before she knew it, they were already back at the door back to the Demon Realm, King and Luz catching each other up on their weeks.

They came back to find Raine laughing their ass off as Hooty beamed, probably elated that Raine found him so entertaining. 

"Eda! Eda! Have you heard the one about the owl and the road?"

"To hoot on the other side?"

Raine started laughing up a storm again. 

What a dork . But Eda was smiling at them, entirely endeared. 

"Hooty, you are a hoot," Raine managed after calming down, then seemed to hear themself and began to giggle. "Alright, I'm going to go get ready for the final rehearsal. Thank you for the distraction, to both of you."

They kissed Eda's cheek as they walked past her to make their way to the bedroom, where Eda had laid out their clothes on the edge of the nest. 

Soon the house was in a frenzy as they all fought for the bathroom and got ready so they could leave. King wore his red bow, Luz wore her dress shirt and flared out skirt, the suit jacket a tad too fancy for the occasion, and Eda wore her black dress and red midriff jacket. 

Raine was in their formal bard suit, a white dress shirt, a red vest lined in gold and a black suit with red piping and gold cuffs. Eda would've hated to admit that such an antiqued callback to the covens would've been any kind of tasteful. But Raine looked good. And their job was to be a bard that night. It was only fitting to wear the suit one last time.

The concert was being held at the Suburb Square, a quaint plaza similar to the one Eda had seen in Gravesfield. An improvised stage was set up in front of the rows of chairs that now lined the square. The Clawthornes and Nocedas filled up the first row, just as promised. The BATs and Raine were running through the last few kinks in their performance before the concert began.

Amber came hopping over, excitedly jumping into Eda’s arms.

"Mama Eda!"

"Amber! Are you guys ready for tonight?"

"As ready as we'll ever be. Raine just gets an upset stomach."

"They'll be fine and you guys are gonna be great."

"Thanks! I'll see you guys after the show, I've gotta go. Derwin likes to do one final tuning before starting."

She skipped her way back to Katya, who was patting Raine’s shoulder reassuringly. The show would start soon. The crowd was starting to settle into their chairs. With the curtain calls out of the way, the light posts in the square dimmed and the stage's floor lit up.

"Demons and witches of the Ulna Suburbs, welcome to tonight's concert," Derwin's voice echoed through the square. "Tonight is a special event for us as we are joined by the founder of our group and beloved mentor, Raine Whispers!" Raine took up the center stage with a wave and what could pass as a confident smile. The crowd cheered, but no louder than the front row, which made Raine smile for real. "Without further adieu, I give you, for the first time as a whole, the BATS!"

Derwin, Katya, and Amber appeared at Raine’s flanks. They all looked at each other for a second, like they couldn't quite believe they were playing together, like something electric was about to happen on that stage, and they all jumped right in; Eda had no idea who was driving. 

Magic, for lack of a better word, exploded from the stage to the edges of the square, the lively tune creating an air of mischief and daring. It was all the exciting parts of being a rebel, the adrenaline, the thrill of going against the norm, the adventure.

Amber had been crafting a neat night of thrills for the residents of the Ulna, something Eda could only assume they lived vicariously through. Amber knew her audience.

Each member was weaving something into the atmosphere. Derwin built a steady and stable tension; Katya was the heartbeat, the escalation and rest; Raine and Amber were almost dancing circles around each other, one stealing the melody from the other and back again, sharing the push and pull of the fun, its pitfalls and lifts. It was about them, about how Amber saw the BATs and the fun she had with them. That was easy to see from Eda's point of view, but to the rest of the audience it was about playfulness and how to have some fucking fun.

It was no wonder they could live off of this type of performance, the people loved it. 

And Raine was incredible. No one would've ever guessed that they'd been pacing a crater into the floor over how anxious they'd been earlier. Or that they had stage fright for that matter. They were having fun, moving around the stage with ease as they all kind of danced to their own conversation.

Then the melody shifted over to Derwin and Amber, then it moved around again, and after another shift, Eda had lost track of who was doing what. She was just in awe, carried away by the effect of their magic.

The piece left her a little breathless and craving a little more. 

Raine wasn't the type to flaunt their talent, mostly because that meant an audience had to witness it. But when they took the stage, it made sense that they'd made Head Witch. They were just that good. 

Raine was having fun now, as they played through the repertoire their smile grew and they even managed to wink at Eda when they neared the edge of the stage.

Eda was swept off her feet all over again. She'd never seen them so confident on stage. It had her standing up at the end of the concert, cheering them on as loudly as she could and she could only say, " Encore! "

It made Raine blush as they took their bow, trying to hide their smirk. 

It took everything to not rush them while they were still on the stage. Raine was having a great night, Eda wasn't about to ruin it by embarrassing them. 

Raine finally made their way over to their family, already taking off the suit jacket from the heat of the stage.

"Hey," they greeted with a timid smile. They were always bashful after a performance. 

"Rainestorm! That was amazing!" Eda threw her arms around their neck. "You were incredible!"

Raine chuckled against her ear. "Thank you, love."

Eda pulled away so the other could greet Raine.

"Thanks for coming out, everyone," Raine said. "It, uh, it means a lot."

"You were fantastic," Camila said, the awe in her voice evident. "I had never seen anything like that before."

"Thank you, Mrs. Noceda. I'm sure it must've been…a lot."

King was climbing up Raine’s leg, asking to be held. Raine wrapped him up in their jacket before holding him against their side.

"No," Camila waved them away in a charming manner. "After the first time I came over here, this was a stroll in the park. Helps me see how Luz fell in love with the Demon Realm in the first place."

Raine blushed at that. "That's very flattering,  thank you."

Amber tapped on Raine’s shoulder, startling them. She gave them a significant look, her eyes darting from the BATs to their little group.

" Oh , oh," Raine said with a start. "Yes, let me introduce you guys to the crew." Raine’s voice gained an air of theatricality; this show was only for Camila. "This is Amber, Katya, and Derwin; together we are the Bards Against the Throne…AKA…the BATs!"

Katya and Derwin descended on either side of Raine with their hiss, Amber popping up in front of them. They all started laughing, a reflection of the camaraderie they'd formed in the early days of fighting Belos. 

"You guys already know Eda and King and Luz," Raine said, adjusting King's weight in their arms. "And you knew Hunter as the Golden Guard. This is Camila Noceda, Luz's mom."

"It's great to finally meet the poet's family under normal circumstances," Katya said with a somewhat smug look. "They never stop talking about you guys."

"I love the people in my life, sue me," Raine said playfully.

It was wonderful to see them like this, with friends they had banter with, relaxed and surrounded by those they loved. 

Derwin seemed interested in Hunter's old job and kept asking him and Luz about Belos, which seemed odd, but mostly harmless; Eda was keeping an eye on Hunter's ticks, making sure the questions never made him too uncomfortable. King was falling asleep in Raine’s arms, all tuckered out from a long day. Raine was balancing a conversation between Camila, Amber, and Katya, mostly consisting of them and the latter two explaining how Bard magic works to Camila. Eda was happy to lean on Raine’s shoulder and listen to their voice, listen to the lively conversations, to the jokes and laughter. 

Eda was happy.

Life was good. Her family was safe, happy, alive . Loved. She couldn't ask for more.

Eda was despondent. The Isles were a carcass, grotesque with the artifice of the Collector's mirth. Unnatural and dissonant with the Titan's magic. It was a literal waking nightmare. These days it was rare for Eda to not have feathers peeking out of her collar or forearms, the curse always on the cusp of being unleashed. It was also rare for her to see King. She missed him terribly and her stomach turned at the thought of him at the Collector's hands. 

At least Raine kept her company, in a bizarre and morbid way. They hung there, silent, cold hands and dead eyes. 

"Hey, Rainestorm," she started, as she always had. "Thought you could use the company, since these old kooks don't talk." She almost laughed at the irony of it, almost sobbed. She composed herself. "I'm going to break us out of here, as soon as you don't blast me the moment I step outside. I'm going to fix this. I'm getting my kids back and you, you hear? I'm getting you back, Rainestorm."

She reached for their hand but heard something. It was far away, just outside the archives. Kids talking.

"You think…is…there?" Luz? What the hell was Luz doing here? "...okay? Hunter? Stop!" She was in trouble. Screw this.

"I'm sorry, Rainestorm."

The harpy came out and she dashed out of the archive as fast as she could. She could feel the residual heat from the blasts being aimed at her. She rammed through the nearest wall, diving into the Titan's skull to see Luz and her friends.

Hunter was not okay. He was…in pain? He was covered in something green. Luz was shielding the others from him as she looked up.

"Eda! Eda, behind you!"

Just then, something heavy fell on her back, making her lose control and crash. It was Raine, eyes red instead of green. She kicked them off of her. The other Coven Heads were following closely, climbing down the archives. 

Fuck.

"Rainestorm, stop it," she tried as Raine took aim again. They could hit Luz. Eda lunged at them, holding their arms against them. They thrashed in her arms and stilled, then thrashed and stilled again, an odd mechanical pattern. 

"Titan, I hate this. Luz, are you alright?"

"Hunter isn't."

Eda turned to see Hunter throw up that green stuff. He seemed terrified, waving frantically for Flapjack to get away from him, the little bird already flying in a hobbled way. The green stuff started to pool and gather and grow. Hunter was still coughing it up. The Coven Heads were gathering, taking aim.

Luz held up her light glyph to get a better look and Raine stopped thrashing. Then started to panic like they normally would.

"Rainestorm?"

They stopped. "Eda? What the hell is going on?" 

She let them go immediately, pushing them behind her. "Later."

"Hunter! Mi vida, get away from that!" It was an older woman that looked a lot like Luz. It was her mom.

The green stuff grew into a horned figure with a skeletal grin, barely held together by sinew and that foul slime. 

"Belos," Luz said with so much certainty it made a chill run down Eda's spine.

Belos grabbed Hunter by the throat, lifting him up. Tears were welling up in his eyes. This was not happening. Her kids were not going to face this devil and she wasn't going to lose any of them to it. This was not going to happen.

She lunged, claws first, fangs second. It was a frail structure under the strength of the Owl Beast, Hunter dropping to the floor with a gasp, kicking away from them. She sank her teeth into his mushy throat, bile rising to her own, and ripped. She tore him apart until there was nothing but crushed bone and goop. 

The Coven Heads hadn't blown her to bits yet, which was something. She looked to find half of them dazed and not puppets, the others were still aiming. Luz got closer with her light and they were released from the Collector's grip. 

Light? That was it?

She felt contempt for all the times she'd extinguished her light before reaching Raine in her visits. She wanted to scream. 

"Where's King?" Luz asked. 

"I don't—"

"COLLECTOR, NO. LUZ, RUN!"

*

King usually didn't have that look in his eyes; in fact, the only time the Collector had ever seen that look was on the first day they played. Collector understood the look only later. King had been frightened, but that made sense. King had never floated like that before. Flying can be scary if you're not used to it!

But there was something different this time around. It was a look they'd only ever associated with the Archivists or Belos, it looked so foreign on King. King was angry.

But they had been having fun! Why was he so angry?

When that stupid human showed up, King got his head screwed on backwards. The Owl Beast had escaped and was covered in Belos, his unmistakable slime covering her feathers. They'd tagged him, though. Mashed goop against the skull of that jerk. Whatever. The Owl Beast tagged him again.

Now King looked angry and frightened and was shouting a dizzying Weh! And the Collector hadn't made him float once! Not since the last time.

The human had some silly paper spells that were starting to burn. Collector's head was starting to hurt.

The Head Witches were not guarding the Owl Beast, the human was playing with King, King was angry at the Collector, it all felt a lot like losing! Losing a game he didn't even know they were playing! That's no fair!

Collector didn't like this game. He didn't know the rules, no one was listening to him. They were getting bored.

"Well, this is no fun! We're starting over, new rules and all! I'm not losing to you, human, I'm not! I'M NOT!"

They snapped their fingers once and nothing happened. He tried again. Again. AGAIN.

That was more like it.

Surrounded by toys again. Puppets to play with just like he wanted them to. No ideas he didn't like or that were boring, like picking up the toys after he was done or not making more puppets. He had all the time in the world… all the quiet, too.

Just like in that stupid disk. Nothing new to play, just whatever they could think up. After the first couple hundred years, the idea well was all dried up! 

No, no, no, no!

They were playing alone again! That was even more boring!

Uggghhhh.

Why was playing so hard?

They floated over to King, who was still and perfectly pleasant, and snapped him back. He took a deep breath and sat back hard, dazed. He had that look again like he was floating as his eyes darted back and forth around him. He whispered something like, " What did you do?" Curiously, there was water welling up in his eyes. Such a funny thing for eyes to do, water shouldn't be there.

Collector wiped it away; it had obviously been bothering King because he flinched as they removed it.

"Okay, let's try it your way, I don't want to play all alone. Then I'd be back stuck in that stone, twiddling my thumbs and rhyming all day."

"You mean that, Collector?"

Collector was almost proud of how they'd made King's eyes sparkle.

"I do."

"Let everyone go. Please. I want my family back."

Family? That didn't make sense at all. Family were a bunch of jerks that lied and played mean tricks and were uncles that destroyed nephews and—

King had water in his eyes again.

"Please. I miss my mom and my sister."

"Would that make you happy?"

"Yes, it would," he said quickly.

"What about our games?"

King's lip quivered. It'd never done that before. King mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"I said I'm tired! I'm tired of playing and trying to not upset you! I'm tired of never seeing my mom. I'm tired of being scared."

Scared? What was there to be scared of? Had King been lying to him? "Have you not liked our games? Have you been lying to me?"

"I've had to! I was too scared not to!" 

Scared . They'd been lied to. Again! Why did this keep happening? 

Collector felt… bad. They didn't like this feeling at all.

"Well, maybe I don't want to play here anymore."

Maybe he didn't know how to play at all.

*

The Collector was gone when Eda opened her eyes. King was in her arms before she even came to. King was okay, he'd somehow managed to set them free. She had her kid back.

Luz. Where was she?

"Eda! Eda, oh my gosh, I missed you!" Luz was running towards her, arms open, barely stopping and toppling them over.

"Luz! Oh, my good witch," Eda squeezed her tight. "Oh, my babies." She kissed them all over their sweet faces, making them giggle. 

Hell was over. Eda had her kids and most of her limbs, she was willing to call that a win.

She held them tight for a long while, not ready to let go just yet. Luckily, neither were they. 

A hand shook her shoulder, startling her. She'd been drifting, half conscious on Camila's couch. King had lost the battle with sleep long ago, curled up in her arms, Raine's jacket almost a snuggie in his paws. She heard Raine’s cackle, they were probably laughing at one of Amber's jokes. 

Eda followed the hand on her shoulder, finding Luz at the end. "Sorry, thought you were more awake. Hunter said you and Raine could take his room for the night. He'll take the couch."

She was a vision, all smiles and kind eyes, Tassie happily perched on her shoulder. 

"And Mamá says you have to stay. It's too late for either of you to fly Owlbert," she continued. 

"Okay," Eda agreed easily. She didn't feel particularly keen on the idea of leaving Luz at that moment. "We'll stay. Are the BATs still here?"

"No, they went back a while ago. Mami and Raine got into the apple blood jug. Hunter's cutting them off."

"Where's King sleeping?"

"He usually sleeps with me."

"Will you take him up, please?" She handed over her little bundle of fur. "I'm gonna have to carry Raine upstairs."

"Yes, Mom. I mean—"

Eda's heart nearly stopped. Luz looked alarmed, blushing, maybe embarrassed. Eda would've squeezed the life out of her if it wouldn't have woken up King. Instead, she stood, pulling Luz to her side and peppered the top of her head with kisses.

"Mm, I love ya, kiddo."

Luz relaxed, leaning into her side. "I love you, too, Eda."

"Go to bed, it's late."

"Yes, Mom," she said, this time with a grin, leaning up to kiss her cheek.

Eda's heart was soaring, a little worn and wrung, knowing only hardships for so long, but still, soaring.

Mom. She'd never expected Luz to call her that. It was an unspoken sentiment, but they both knew it was there. Hearing it, though, had her eyes watering.

"Go on, you, get," Eda said with a watering chuckle, pushing her gently towards the stairs. Luz's smile was bright, a loving understanding in her eyes.

Eda made her way to the kitchen, where Hunter was hiding away the apple blood and Vee was wiping down the stove, leftovers in their containers waiting to be put away. Raine was leaning back in their chair, their eyes half lidded, wearing a big goofy smile and their cheeks red from drinking; Camila seemed more alert, smelling the drink in her glass and sitting up at the sight of Eda.

"Did Luz turn in already?"

Eda nodded as she placed her hand on Raine’s shoulder. "Yeah, just came by to tuck the lightweight in, too."

Camila nodded sagely, seeming more tired than drunk. Raine didn't even stir at the lightweight comment.

"Need help?"

"Nah, I got 'em," Eda said, harpy at hand. Camila jumped back in her chair.

" Ay, connnchole, " Camila readjusted. "I forgot you could do that."

"Sorry," Eda gave her a small smile. "Come on, Rainestorm. We're turning in."

Raine just raised their arms, knowing Eda would sling them over her shoulder. She covered them with her left wing as well, for good measure. 

"It's dark," they slurred.

"I know, love," Eda smirked. "Good night, kids. Thank you for letting us stay, Camila."

Camila batted her hand as if to say it's no problem.

"Good night," the kids chorused. 

" Que descansen, " Camila said.

Descansen. Rest. 

Eda knew that one, Luz had taught her. She felt herself smile as she went up the steps to Hunter's room. Luz was probably a better teacher than she was, always patient and enthusiastic. Her eyes would light up, whether it was explaining glyph combos or how to roll an r properly. She'd really found herself a great kid.

Eda set Raine down on the bed and dressed them down enough for them to be comfortable. The harpy settled and Eda did the same, crawling into bed and spooning her bard. Raine’s breaths came softly, already asleep. Even like this, Raine was a small symphony, little hums and breaths that came and went, the harmonies of Raine’s unconscious. But the best part was the steady beat—their heartbeat—calm and wonderfully persistent. It was what tied together that perfect natural melody.

Eda had missed it. She would never have to miss it again.

prologue | < chapter 4

[bicsbec]

Natural Melodies

Chapter 4: places to rest (ao3 link)

Raine loved every single aspect of performing, except the performance itself. As they saw it, the point of music wasn't to show off natural talent or how well one could perform a particularly nasty piece. Music was nature condensed into sound, the musician its translator. But Raine was a bard, performance came with the job description.

As their little concert came closer, Raine felt queasier at each rehearsal. 

"I think Raine needs a drink," Derwin joked when he saw Raine’s pale face. They were packing up, spelling away their instruments and repertoire. 

"I think Grimgrub's Pub is still open," Katya suggested. Amber immediately perked up.

"We're getting wasted? With Raine? Sign me up."

"Oh, no," Raine interjected. "If I'm drinking anywhere, it's in the comfort of my own home. I can't keep up with you kids."

Katya nudged them with her elbow. "A bottle of apple blood with Eda sounds like a better time than us, that's for sure."

Raine felt their face go red. "I miss when I was your superior. You kept your noses out of my personal life."

"No, we didn't," Amber said. "We just did it behind your back."

"I'm flattered," Raine said sarcastically.

"So, that's a no to Grimgrub's?" Katya asked.

"Thank you for the invitation, but no. I have to get home. Kids and a girlfriend to get to."

Katya and Amber cooed at that, but Derwin gave Raine a smile.

"A family looks good on you, poet," he said.

Raine smiled back. "Thank you. I think so, too."

But Katya wasn't wrong. And Eda always did like to put Raine on their back. 

Darius and Eberwolf had taken up residence near the heart of the Titan, where most Coven Heads had lived during Belos' reign. It was now an empty villa, occupied by them as they set up a council that was separate from the coven system. Raine had given them Luz's notes and they'd taken off with a running start, trying to set up before anyone made a dangerous grab for power.

They seemed busy every time Raine stopped by. Even as they stopped by to pick up Hunter. 

"Raine, what brings you here?" Darius answered the door. Raine was almost surprised to see that Eberwolf wasn't perched on his shoulder.

"Eda sent me to pick up Hunter early," Raine said, holding up Owlbert. "We're having dinner with Camila. She wanted to give Hunter some time to get ready."

"Hm, the human mother, yes," Darius said, looking over his shoulder. "Well, come on in. We've been wondering if we could bother you with a few questions." He stepped aside, opening the door further.

"Uh, sure," Raine gave him a funny look. "What about?"

"More like pick your brain, get your opinion." Darius led them to the office, where Eberwolf was buried under various scrolls. He seemed to be straining his eyes; Raine suspected he had a migraine. 

"Hey, Eber," Raine greeted. He only closed his eyes, raising a hand in return. "So, what did you want my take on?"

"We've been looking into this parliament business, how to set up democratic elections, who can qualify as a candidate," Darius started.

"Sure, right."

"We figure the Isles would have a representative per body part."

"Mm-hm."

"So, uh," Darius was fidgeting, talking with his hands too much. The next words tumbled out of his mouth. "How would you feel about being a candidate for the Knee?"

"Wouldn't I have to live there most of the year or something? And more importantly, I'm not a politician, Darius. Leading a coven and making decisions for the whole population are two different things."

"Yes, but see, most people don't know that. You're already a step ahead."

The proposal wasn't particularly appealing to Raine, as they recalled Coven Head meetings and the headache of dealing with self-important idiots with a fragile ego. But they also considered every other person that might want that seat, being a driving force into the decisions made over the Isles. Raine could see why Eber had a migraine.

"I don’t know, Darius," they said honestly. "I'll think about it. But I'm not moving back to the Knee for this."

"Yep, no, that's perfectly fine," Darius said quickly. "We just couldn't imagine doing this without you." The tension in Eberwolf's shoulders seemed to ease. 

"You'd be fine, I'm sure of it," Raine said dismissively. "Opposition to authority doesn’t equate to having the means to lead." 

"You underestimate yourself, songbird."

"Ha! Sure," Raine smiled at the nickname. "I'll just grab Camila's kid and twitter my ass out of here before you force me to be in your parliament."

Darius laughed at that.

"Dang, you can hold a grudge. Fine, take the princeling. And please give this some thought."

"I will," Raine said, waving to Eberwolf before calling for Hunter. 

They heard his footsteps before they saw him. "Raine? What are you doing here? I told Miss Eda I'd be back before dinner."

"Camila and Luz are coming over, Eda thought you'd like to be there before they arrived."

His eyes lit up, his palisman turning into a staff as soon as Raine finished. They barely had to wait for Hunter to dash and say his goodbyes before he was hurrying out of the house, flying on his palisman.

The flight back to the Owl House was tranquil. Hunter seemed to be in his own head, his passive smile the only hint of what he might be thinking. Even with the damage Flapjack had received in the Human Realm, he seemed to be able to fly smoothly enough, a few hiccups here and there that Hunter didn't seem to mind. 

Raine had always gotten along with Owlbert, the palisman had been playful and endearing, often focusing that energy on Droplet. Their heart thumped heavier at the thought. Magic with no companion to flourish. 

Owlbert was no substitute. No one palisman would be, really, but…

"Hunter, Eda told me you carve palismen now," Raine started, still not loving the idea of a new palisman. Palistrom wood was still so rare.

"Oh, um, yeah. I do. I'm still learning. Mr. Clawthorne says I have a good steady hand."

Raine chuckled. "I suppose you do."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I lost my palisman to—um, she's gone. And Eda said you could help me out. But it's not urgent," they said. "I'm aware of the state palistrom trees find themselves in." 

Hunter softened, his eyes falling to Flapjack. "I'd be honored, Raine. I have a feeling that palistrom trees will be fine, we just have to wait a little."

Raine could do that. After all the years in the Bard Coven, ascending ranks, patiently plotting, carefully organizing to strike against Belos, the countless hours spent trying to disentangle themself from the Collector's grip, waiting a little was easy. 

Luz was an eager student. Even when she was away at her human school, she continued to practice on Eda’s lute. Before Tassie had hatched, all Luz could do was learn the pieces and patterns that accompanied bard spells. With Tassie's aid, she could now produce magic. Their lessons had taken off after that.

Every time she saw Raine, she was a little bit better, her fingering and chord progressions growing smoother.

" Mamá really liked Raine's Rhapsody. She told me she wanted to hear its original composer play it," Luz told them, much to their tiny horror. 

"Right, but I'm sure you do it justice," Raine said anxiously. An audience of one was significantly more terrifying than a faceless crowd. Smaller groups, especially if it was just their family, were more manageable. 

"Say, when are you gonna teach me all the cool spells Eda said you knew? Rearranging molecules, manipulation spells, all that stuff," Luz said excitedly. She cradled Tassie in her lap, the weird creature clicking its odd chatter contently. 

Raine brightened at the question, sliding into teacher mode.

"Well, basic bard magic consists of altering the 'mood' around you, working with the atmosphere and how it affects people's feelings. Technically, you're already doing one of the cool things you wanted to do. Bard magic works through sound, which is just variating vibrations, which we can manipulate to our liking. It's anything and everything you want it to be. That's why many overlook it and underestimate it. They just think it's limited to entertainment," they explained, summoning their violin. "So lets say I were to play a tune with pizzicato," they plucked at the strings with their index, "and my only intention is atmospheric, how does it affect you?"

"Right now it just feels jolly or bright," Luz said, trying to find the right word. It was always difficult to verbalize how Bard magic felt. Raine changed the pattern. "Agitated, like I have to run," Luz amended. 

"Good, now I'm going to move your feet," Raine warned her. It was a subtle shift, like a grace note placed at the end. Luz stood up, Tassie moving toward Raine to avoid her feet, and started marching in place.

"Woah!"

Just for fun, Raine made her feet dance a little before releasing her.

"It takes practice, but you're already messing around with cool spells," Raine said with a smile, dispelling their violin.

Luz got a look of excitement that made Raine understand why Eda said she'd get starry-eyed. It was a spot on description.

"I'm gonna practice 'til my fingers fall off!"

Raine chuckled nervously, believing her entirely capable. "Maybe not until they fall off , perhaps just until they're sore."

"I'll make no such promise." 

Weirdly enough, Luz was very much Eda’s kid.

Unfortunately, not all days could consist of enlightening bard classes, mirthful rehearsals, and family dinners. Some days started with a fright.

"RAT! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"EDAAA!"

"HEY!"

The door to their room slammed open, a stumble and a crash making Raine jump awake. They'd taken to waking up a little later ever since moving into the Owl House and were deeply regretting it. They sat up against the weight of Eda’s arm around their waist, startled by the claws crawling up their sweater and the weight settling in the back hood, pulling at their neck. Their bow was in their hand instinctively. 

There were two figures crashing into the room, frozen at the entrance. 

"Sorry, sorry!" It was Luz's voice.

"This is low, King," Hunter accused. 

"What the f—" Eda cleared her throat, starting again. "What the heck is going on? King ."

Raine pulled him out of their hoodie, which made King hug their neck so as to not be pulled off. "Hunter was chasing me," King said desperately.

"Care to tell them why , rat?" He was using his Golden Guard voice. Hunter was pissed .

"Stop calling him that," Luz interjected. "He said he was sorry."

Raine was too blind and too tired to follow the conversation or connect any dots, so they laid back down, hugging King like a pillow and dispelling their bow. 

" Really? All I heard was—"

"Alright! That's enough! Out!" Eda said, getting up and ushering them out. "You, too, King."

King was lifted out of Raine’s arms, picked up by his scruff.

"Weh! Wait! Hunter will skin me!" 

"And why's that?"

"I, uh, I might've scratched up a palistrom log?" King said timidly. "It had the bark off! I didn't know what it was!"

"Ignorance doesn't exempt you from guilt," Raine mumbled, almost asleep again.

"Raine’s right, King. You gotta make it up to Hunter."

"How? I can't just grow a tree!— Wait ." Small feet padded out of the room. And King's voice, now muted, called, " Luz! "

Quiet settled over the room again, Eda’s arm returning to Raine’s waist.

"Sorry about the kids," Eda said in a low voice.

Raine shook their head. "Nah, it's nothing. I know what's the deal. I just wish they'd fight quietly." 

Eda snorted. "You and me both." She held them closer, kissing their cheek. "I lucked out with you, huh?"

Raine shook their head again. I'm the lucky one.

Heart attack and all, Raine would do it again. The headaches and the scream-fights and the occasional wrestling matches that had to be pulled apart. Raine would do it forever; they loved those kids and they loved the woman that mothered them. 

King made it up to Hunter. Raine was still a little dumbfounded by it. King had grown a tree.

As he told it, he asked Luz to help him cast a plant glyph on a palistrom seed they had snatched from the Bonesborough Botanical Garden. Raine thought they probably could've asked to the same effect, but that wasn't likely with a Clawthorne and Eda's apprentice. 

King had excitedly dragged everyone out of the house, even Hooty had slithered out to follow King into the red pine woods. Where there used to be a clearing now stood a young palistrom tree. 

Hunter marveled at the tree before rushing Luz and King into a tight hug.

"Oh, my Titan," Hunter laughed. "Do you know what this means?"

"I've found my next summer project?" Luz half joked. Raine could see she was already set on the idea.

Hunter gave her a bright smile. These kids were going to single handedly change the Isles.

Hunter walked up to the tree, running an appreciative hand over the smooth bark. The bark under Hunter's hand shone, spreading through the rest of the tree. The trunk grew thicker, the bark rougher, the branches taller, the leaves fuller.

He laughed, almost hysterically. " Luz ," Hunter called with a tone of incredulity. 

"You kids are really something," Eda said, taking a step closer to inspect the tree.

Raine was pretty sure their jaw was hanging open. Only Luz seemed unfazed, excitedly jumping on the balls of her feet.

"We are kicking palistrom butt this summer! But, like, in the good sense," Luz said, shaking his shoulder. 

Hunter had been right, the palistroms would be just fine under the care of the Nocedas and King.

Raine picked up King, saddling his weight on their hip. "Nice work, buddy."

"Thanks," King said sheepishly. "It was the least I could do."

"I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but I'm proud of you. You really owned up to your mistake. And Eda definitely thinks the same," Raine told him.

King hugged them, a reassuring squeeze. "Thank you. It means more than you think."

There was a small lump in their throat that Raine hadn't expected at King's words. A startling sense of relief washed over them when they realized that not only did they love Eda’s kids, but her kids loved them back.

King never told Raine what his nightmares were about, and Raine never really asked, but they had their suspicions. It was likely the same type of nightmare that kept them up at night as well. 

Limp limbs and cold skin and unseeing eyes. Impotence and dread. Moments they didn't quite witness but had a part in. Watching and dreaming, a blur of what was real and what wasn't. 

Sleep was a heavy prospect to face with dreams like that, vividly confined.

The nightmares were less frequent now that they were away from the cold of the Knee, but when they did occur, Raine worked on their reminder that things were different now.

They kept playing around with the name, torn between the nomenclature of its composition or of the poetry it emulated. Raine finally settled on The Owl's Ballad, considering how long they'd been wanting to write something about Eda that wasn't about their breakup. And considering that the piece they'd been working on was every feeling Eda brought to their mind. 

It was taking flight and starting anew, warmth that coursed through their veins and pooled in their heart, magic that roamed free and unbound from strings and strange hands. It was love, young and naive, unrealistic and unreasonable; older and well-worn, compromising and understanding. It was home, she was home. In the same way that grudgby matches on hot summer days were home and quiet sunset duets among flower fields were home. Fleeting moments of happiness that felt too good to be allowed, like their existence broke the rules. 

And breaking the rules always felt like a good place to rest.

Raine spent their sleepless nights transcribing the piece into its first draft, papers scattered over the desk in the corner of their bedroom, a few glyph lights illuminating the scrolls.

"Rainestorm?" Eda’s sleep-ridden voice carried over to them, startling Raine. "What're you doing up?"

"Eda! I didn't mean to wake you," they whispered.

"You didn't," Eda whispered back, peaking over the edge of the nest. "Everything okay?"

"Yes. You can go back to sleep."

Eda crawled out of their nest and looked over Raine’s shoulder, inspecting the notations.

"The Owl's Ballad? Is this about me?"

Raine suppressed a smile, only a little self-conscious. "Yeah, it's about home."

"Will you play it for me?" 

They blushed at that, their nerves mixing with the upcoming performance. Raine had played for Eda all of their works in progress, all of their shit drafts, all the embarrassing firsts. She'd heard them all. This one was like an exposed nerve, everything they still hadn't put into words put into feeling. Eda would feel how they felt about her. It rattled and emboldened them.

"Are you nervous?" Eda asked teasingly.

"A little, which is odd," they said, summoning their violin. 

"I can turn around if you want." She used to do that for them the first few times they showed her a draft. Their heart melted.

"Nonsense, take a seat."

"If you say so." She straddled their lap, a very annoying smirk playing on her lips.

Raine felt their face heat up. " Eda ."

Eda laughed in that contagious way that always ended in a snort. "You barely get flustered! You can't blame me for taking advantage of it." She kissed them chastely and stood, leaning on the desk instead. "Let's hear it."

Raine shook their head with a smile and started to play.

With the first note, moments that were familiar to both of them began to bleed together as Raine weaved each feeling to the next.

The jinxes and mayhem that ran through the school as Eda had her fun and Raine tagged along. The rush of getting in trouble but having no real consequences to show for it; the rush of showing Eda the first draft of their Rhapsody, which they'd written for her to play. Eda's erratic nature, Raine always on their toes, always after her. 

When she dropped out of school, shortly after her duel with Lilith; when she ran from home, showing up at their door weeks later. Their first kiss, their first time, their first fight. Their first secret, the curse, and everything they didn't say about it. 

The melody ran through the contrasts of their days together now, the quiet new things Raine noticed about Eda. The way she carried herself, the way she cared for King and Luz and Hunter, her enthusiasm when she got to teach them about wild magic, the way she had let them in her walls, the way those walls continued to crumble.

This was home, this was where Raine finally got to rest.

The final note died out into the quiet of the room, fading into the darkness of the night.

Raine let out a breath, the kind they held the first few times they ran through a piece, like they weren't sure they wouldn't fumble.

"Well, that was—" Raine looked up to find Eda red-faced. She cleared her throat. "Flattering isn't even the right word. This was keeping you up?"

"Only partially. I, um, sometimes get nightmares. Like King. This helps me calm down," they gestured to their annotations, dispelling their violin. 

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Your curse already makes you so tired, you need to rest. A few late nights won't kill me."

"They won't kill me either, Raine," she said, sliding back onto their lap, kissing their nose. "You can wake me up if you need company."

Her weight trapped them in the chair, leaving them with nowhere to go. But the dread never settled. Eda wasn't imposing, wasn't unwelcome. Raine was there, present, free to move their hands to her waist and feel the warmth of her body and see the shine in her eyes as she smiled at them. She was a salve to the Collector's lingering damage. A good place to rest.

"Yeah, I can do that." 

Sleep didn't come much easier, but it seemed lighter to face now.

prologue | < chapter 3 | chapter 5 >

[bicsbec]

Natural Melodies

Chapter 3: settling bones (ao3 link)

Luz had been insufferable when she heard the news. Stars in her eyes, enthusiasm through the roof; it made Eda smile.

King wagged his tail, still in her bag, being swayed this way and that in her excitement.

He climbed out of the bag and crawled up to Eda’s shoulder. "Details! Give us the details."

"Nah, it was boring stuff. Just discussions of financial mergers."

Luz elbowed her with a wink. "Sure, financial— "

Eda covered her mouth, muffling the rest. 

"But you don't keep a ledger," King said, still confused, Titan bless him. Eda picked him up from her shoulder, tucking him under her arm.

"That's enough out of you two. Where's the other one."

"Weh!"

"Stopped by Darius'." 

Eda made a mental note to crow Darius later and ask if Hunter was staying for dinner or not. 

Co-parenting. With Darius Deamonne. 

She would've laughed at the thought even a year ago. 

She shook her head, setting King down on the dining table. "Alright, I'm gonna start on dinner. You two can help or make yourselves busy."

"I'd love to help, but I'm…working on—stuff," Luz said suspiciously, still as see-through as ever. "I'm in my room, please don't need me," she said quickly, turning sharply to the stairs and up to her room.

"I'd help, but I don't want to," King said, hopping off the table and waddling away.

"Oh, no you don't, buster," Eda put her foot in his way. "It's your turn to set the table. Hop to."

King grumbled, redirecting his waddling to the cupboards.

Making dinner took a little more time than it used to, but Eda always managed. It had always seemed like a chore when she was younger, something that needed to be done in order to function. A prolonged lesson in potions that seemed to haunt her through life. Now, it was the time she had to slow down and think. She looked forward to moving through her kitchen at a practiced pace, surrounded by the aroma of the food that comforted her children and accompanied her thoughts.

"Need help?"

Eda nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to find Raine leaning on the kitchen island, peering over the open page of her cookbook. 

"Raine. Hey. You scared me."

"Sorry," they gave her an apologetic smile. "Seemed like you could use a hand."

"Hardy-har," Eda deadpanned. "I'm just about finished. It'd be great if you could make sure it doesn't boil over while it stews. I'm going to check on Luz."

"I can do that."

"Thanks," she kissed their cheek as she passed them, making her way over to Luz's room.

"Knock, knock," she said, rapping her knuckles on her door. "Can I come in, kiddo?"

"Uh, Eda! One second!" 

Eda opened the door slightly, peeking to see Luz scrambling to close some books and tucking away loose papers.

"Watcha doin', kid?" Eda asked, stepping into the room.

"Um, nothing?"

"You ain't fooling me, Luz. Is it illegal? Y'know I wouldn't be mad if it was."

"No…" she said, pulling out her pile of books. "I've just been thinking about stuff."

The spines of the books had titles like Collapsed Civilizations , Democracy Now , and Rebuilding Broken Systems .

"The Isles are still so broken, I’ve been trying to think up ways to help," she explained. She pulled out a paper filled with lists. "And I've been drafting up a new curriculum, one that doesn't center around coven preparation."

Eda took the paper, looking over Luz's handwriting and notes.

"This is a lot of work, you can't do it alone," Eda said. "You'll need help and people in high places to get even a quarter of this in motion. You gotta stop carrying the world on your shoulders, kid. Luckily, we know the right people for the job."

Luz lit up, getting those stars in her eyes again. "Really? Can you ask Raine about it?"

"Oh, sure. I was thinking more like Darius and Eberwolf, but I'll run it by them. I'm sure Bumpikins will be eager to lend an ear, too."

Luz squealed, hugging Eda tightly. "Oh, thank you, Eda!"

"No worries, kiddo. Dinner's almost ready, by the way. You can head down if you like."

"Okay, I'll finish up here real quick."

Eda made her way down, finding Raine stirring the cauldron in the kitchen. Something in her gut stirred nervously, like it wasn't sure if the image before her was real or not. But she knew it was, Raine wasn't going anywhere. This time her heart didn't hurt as much, knowing that she got to keep this feeling for a while longer.

Raine heard her step into the kitchen, looking back at Eda. "Hey, you. I'm pretty sure this is done."

"Then, let's dig in."

Eda was pretty sure she'd followed the recipe as she always did, but something about being surrounded by the conversation of her kids and her partner as they all ate made the meal taste different, richer. She supposed that was what love did, it made life richer.

"Luz is a brilliant kid," Raine said, reading through the notes she'd given Eda. They'd been getting ready to go to sleep, when Raine spotted the pile of papers beside the nest. They looked cute in one of the hoodies Eda had stolen from the Human Realm and a pair of "running shorts," as Luz called them; they were the best fitting clothes Eda could find for Raine to sleep in. 

"Yeah, she is. But she can't do it all alone," Eda said, kicking off her slippers and stepping inside the nest. Raine extended an arm out for her, Eda curling up beside them.

"It's definitely a feasible plan, I have a few notes here and there, but yeah. It's in the realm of reality," Raine said, plucking the sparkle pen Eda had snatched from Luz from the tangle of twigs in the nest. They clicked it, lighting it up; Eda resisted the urge to swat at it.

"Ever the teacher, you are," she said, her eyes following the shimmering bottom. Eda felt their chest rise with their chuckle.

"Yes, well, old habits and all that," they said, writing along the margin. "Do Eberwolf and Darius know about this?"

"I called after dinner to ask if Hunter was staying over, told Darius to pass the message along. He seemed interested. Also told me that Snapdragon was stirring up trouble, along with the illusionist creep and Mr. AA."

Raine’s grip on the pen tightened at Snapdragon's name, their lingering resentment evident. They paused, confused by something.

"Who? Vitimir? He's in Alchemists Anonymous?"

"My darling bard, the Potions Coven should've been rebranded Alchemists Anonymous years ago."

"Yikes."

"You were really in your own bubble over there, huh?"

Raine shrugged. "There were more pressing matters than coven gossip."

"True enough, but now you can't fill me in on all the dirty laundry those pompous freaks had."

"Sure I can," Raine said, turning the page over, scanning and scribbling. "Darius still has that embarrassing crush on Blight, but he'll deny it. Eberwolf likes going to pet groomers to get his fur done. Mason has several projects dedicated to palistrom wood harvesting. Vitimir has stands, plural, in the Night Market. Terra is just horrible in general. Hettie and Osran had a few bribes here and there, mostly rejecting wild witches that needed healing or helping see where they would appear next, y'know, respectively. I was a traitor to the Emperor. And, well, the Emperor was a dick." They looked over at Eda when they were met with silence. "Most of that showed up when I was investigating the emperor's schemes, draining spell research. Darius and Eberwolf's I had to learn by proximity."

"Rainestorm, you've never been more attractive than right now."

Raine snorted. "You're ridiculous," they said, setting Luz's papers and their glasses aside. 

"What I am is in love with you," Eda said, pulling them closer by the collar. They easily followed, smiling and shaking their head as they wrapped their arms around her, pulling her to their side. Raine kissed her forehead, one gentle hand cradling her neck underneath her ear, then ducking to kiss her lips. It was a soft kiss, patient and gentle, heart melting, really. Eda felt her face warm when Raine pulled away.

Even after all the years that had gone by, they still fit together in a way that felt right. They were worn around the edges, too long apart to be the perfect fit anymore, but not enough where it didn't make sense. Raine’s arms belonged around her, their hands following the curve of her body from her back to her thigh, leaving a warm trail that made Eda want to live under their skin and feel them around her at all times. 

"Hey, Eda?" Raine whispered to the ceiling as their hands settled where they should live on her body.

"Hm?"

"I'm in love with you, too."

Eda’s hand settled over their chest, above their heart, above skin she knew to be warm and alive and flowing with blood. Skin that was soft to the touch and a heart with a steady beat, peaceful and persistent. 

Her obsessive cycle finally quieted down. Raine was alive. Raine was by her side. They were together. She was likely never to complain again, her life was so damn near perfect.

Sleep settled over them quietly, like the gentle exhale of a breath held for two decades, finally free of anticipation. 

Eda opened her eyes to see Raine sprawled out over their blankets, jaw hanging open, arm thrown over their head, blanket kicked off their feet and bunched up over their waist, snoring softly. It must've been early if Raine wasn't up yet, their biological clock had been hardwired to rise at seven o'clock since she'd known them. She felt giddy as she watched them, their breaths soft and shallow, their belly rising gently. 

Raine was still there, she was excited to realize. And they still slept like a dork. Titan, she loved them.

Raine began to shift, the new sound of joints popping as they stretched awake delighted Eda. They rubbed at their eye, blinking and trying to focus without their glasses, grimacing at the stiff joint of their shoulder. 

"Morning, creepy lady," they said, their voice still croaky and dry. "Watching me sleep?"

Eda grinned and climbed on top of them, kissing them, coaxing their mouth open with her tongue. Surprised hands settled at her waist, pulling her closer once Raine’s brain seemed to have caught up.

She pulled away, still grinning. "You wake up the same."

Their mouth twisted in that cute way it did when they were confused, like they couldn't quite see the magnitude of such a simple thing as waking up. "Okay?"

She couldn't find better words. Something about still knowing them, still recognizing them…it felt like it meant they'd always been hers and she's always been theirs. And it made Eda incredibly, stupidly happy. "I've missed you," she said instead, because it was still true.

She kissed them all over their face, sweet little pecks that made them giggle, and slowed down when she trailed their jaw and down their neck. She felt Raine relax under her with a sigh. She shimmied down, lifting the hem of their hoodie and trailing kisses down their chest and stomach, following the outline from their hip bone down along their pelvis with her tongue. Eda was grateful the running shorts weren't much of an obstacle for her to pull down.

Raine was combing their fingers through her hair softly, caressing her cheek and making her look up.

"All this because I wake up the same?" They asked with an amused look, slightly out of breath, running a thumb over her bottom lip.

"And because the kids are asleep," she reminded them. "So don't make too much noise."

"Like I would—" Raine gasped sharply, covering their mouth with their hand the moment Eda passed an intimate stroke of her tongue against them without preamble.

Eda wasn't usually a morning person, but having her partner jerk against her mouth definitely changed things. Maybe mornings weren't so bad after all.

Even after Eda had reduced Raine to a panting mess, and they had cleaned up, changed clothes and headed downstairs, the Owl House remained quiet. The perks of waking up early, Eda supposed. 

Raine began to whistle as they rummaged through the kitchen, pulling out mugs and inspecting the drying herbs that hung on their grid. It was the new melody they were working on, they'd reworked some sections that sounded like a conversation with their Rhapsody, like it's long awaited reply. The melody gently draped the kitchen in the feeling of the end of spring, the smell of the dirt in the garden beds of Raine’s old house in Bonesborough, the soft rush of racing inside after the last day of the semester. 

Mrs. Whispers hardly ever questioned what Eda was doing at her doorstep. She'd just step aside and inform her when dinner would be ready. Eda would saunter down the house and barge into Raine’s room. It was their school break routine. She usually found them messing around with their lute, writing concertos or allegros or whatever composition they'd been experimenting with recently. 

This time, they were hunched over their bed, papers scattered across the surface, spots of ink on their hands and smeared on their cheek. Their palisman, Droplet, seemed to be sleeping on their knee, probably lulled by the progression of Raine's latest project. Their lute rested against their bed, seemingly unused. Raine was whistling softly, pausing and scratching out a section on their sheet. Their perfect pitch helped when they really needed to concentrate on the theory aspect of building a piece. 

"Hey, Eda," they greeted without looking up. "Gimme a sec."

Eda knew they might take a while, so she sat down beside the lute and picked it up, strumming the chords Raine had been teaching her, adding her own little flourish on the down stroke.

"Wait, do that again?" Raine tapped her head to get her attention. Eda ran through the chords again. "You life saver, thank you."

Eda blushed, grateful that they were too wrapped up in their head to notice. A few more beats of silence hung between them before Raine spoke up again. "Okay, this doesn't suck so bad. Wanna listen?"

"'Course."

She handed them the lute and they began to play what she later came to know as the first draft of Raine’s Rhapsody. 

Raine placed a steaming cup of tea in front of Eda. The bard spell was dissipating from her kitchen, leaving her with a feeling of mirth and easefulness. 

"That's coming along nicely," Eda said, picking up her cup and blowing over the surface.

"Hm, I hate it less, yes," Raine said, leaning against the counter, their tea fogging up their glasses. "Something's still off. Might be the scale."

"What are you trying to do?"

"It's meant to be the opposite of the Knee. It's meant to be warm and homey and feel like—I don't know…"

"Us growing up?" Eda ventured.

"Kind of, yeah…" Raine sat with the thought. "I guess it's about you. How you feel, the things you remind me of."

Eda could know how to make Raine come, but Raine knew how to make her blush. She'd forgotten what it was like to be their muse. It was always ridiculously flattering when she managed to inspire Raine like that, even outside of music. 

"Oh," was all she could manage. 

"Titan, I want to kiss you. Why are you blushing like that?"

"Because," Eda shrugged a shoulder, knowing the answer like she knew her name, "you make me feel loved."

Raine did kiss her then, holding her face in their hands and running their thumbs softly across her cheeks. "Good."

The faint sound of shuffling footsteps grew closer to the kitchen as Luz wandered in, eyes still puffy from sleep. She had her palisman tucked under her arm and her phone in her hand; she hardly went anywhere without either. Eda often saw her eat her breakfast with her phone propped against the egg, staring blearily at the screen, spoon halfway to her mouth. It drove Hunter up the wall that she took up so much table space.

"Morning," she mumbled, pawing her way through the cupboards. 

"Good morning," Raine said with an amused look, tracking Luz's clumsy passage through the kitchen. To the rest of the Isles, Luz was one of its saviors; they stopped seeing her as she was: a kid that could be grouchy in the mornings and have petty fights with her siblings over bathroom turns and be excited over the things she loved. Raine was getting to see the mundane side to Luz.

"Morning, kiddo. Are you all packed up?"

"Hm? What for?"

"Winter break or something? You go back to your mom tomorrow."

That seemed to wake her up a bit. "That's tomorrow? But there's so much left to do! Hexside is barely ready to start a normal semester. If I could just—"

"Luz, we talked about this," Eda reminded her. "You need to finish school in the Human Realm. We'll always be here, you can visit whenever. And you can help out when it doesn't come in conflict with your life on the other side."

"I know, I know," she said, looking defeated. "It's just—I've finally found my home. Mamá finally understands me, I—I fit in, with Mamá , with you. It's all I've ever wanted. It's you guys."

As the words left her mouth, she shrieked, jumping and almost dropping her palisman. It was moving.

" Eda! Eda, look!"

Eda nearly jumped from her chair, her eyes glued to the egg. "I'm looking." It was hatching! 

Luz held it gingerly in her hands, bringing it over to the table. They were almost pulled towards the egg, gathering around Luz. Raine seemed transfixed by the palisman, eyes filled with wonder.

Eda couldn't blame them, she herself had never seen a palisman hatch . The shell jumped and seemed to stretch out until the surface broke. It let out a beam of light that died almost as soon as it shone, the little critter that struggled out surrounded by the light. Eda had to squint to focus on the little guy, until it stopped shining and revealed itself to be—

"What the heck is that?" It definitely looked like it could've been from the Demon Realm, but Eda had never seen anything like it.

"It's a platypus! She's a platypus! She's so cute!" Luz held her palisman closer, the little guy chattering an odd purr when she saw Luz. "Her name's Tassie. Oh, I've always wanted a platypus! Wait, where's Hunter? I gotta show him."

"He's at—"

"Darius'! Thanks, Eda," she raced out of the kitchen, breakfast forgotten. Eda could still hear her inside the house. "Wait! KING! KING LOOK." Her feet stomped through the wooden floor and then— "Woah. I CAN FLY. EDA, I CAN FLY." 

"That is adorable," Raine commented.

"Careful! Please don't break your neck!" Eda called. "Camila will kill me if she does."

She next heard Luz outside the house, probably having flown out a window. "HUNTER! HUNTER LOOK!"

"Darius' house is so far away. You think her enthusiasm'll last the whole trip?" Raine mused.

"The whole Isles will know about Luz's palisman before Hunter," Eda said, knowing full well nothing would deter Luz's spirits. "She's wanted this for too long. She'll probably calm down by the end of the week." 

"Well, that was very cute," Raine chuckled. "I'll be up on the tower practicing, if you need me."

"The new piece?"

"No, one of Amber's. The kids asked me to play with them at the Ulna."

"And you said yes? Where's my partner? Who are you?"

Raine laughed at that. "Amber used her pout to convince me."

"I see. You had no choice."

"Exactly. You should come to the performance, all of you," Raine said, picking up their mug from the counter. "I'm sure Amber would love to see her Mama Eda."

Eda brightened. "I'd love that, too."

"Great," Raine smiled. "I'll be upstairs."

"Okay," Eda said, watching as they made their way out and up the stairs. 

What a morning.

Having Raine around made her days feel like when they were in school, when Raine watched her as she tidied her room and they idly strummed their lute or whistled a soft tune. It was exciting, it was familiar, it was finally home. Her days were filled with jokes and laughter and poems, late nights and slept in mornings, tea and warm-up scales. Raine filled the silences she had thought never bothered her. She couldn't imagine her life with those silences anymore.

She thought that maybe her kids felt the same way.

When Luz came to visit at the end of each month, she'd sometimes sit near Raine when they practiced, just close enough to be within the spell's range and be able to do her school work. Raine had noticed by the third time she'd done it and had asked her if she wanted to learn bard spells. Luz had lit up at the idea and had started practicing with Eda’s lute. It did things to Eda's heart to see Luz playing her lute, concentrating on the chord placement, much like she had struggled at the beginning. Raine had always been a patient teacher, never rushing Luz and suggesting exercises and scales that would facilitate her mobility.

Sometimes, Eda would hear Hunter whistling in the tower while Raine was out rehearsing with the BATs. Almost as if he were filling the silence with the recurring phrases Raine played, usually the sections they stumbled over and played until they got it right. She wasn't sure if Hunter realized what he was doing.

But Eda knew that King had gained a parent. She realized this after the incident.

One night, Eda had woken up to the feeling of being watched. King's yellow eyes pierced through the dark room, hovering over Eda.

"King?"

"Hi," he whispered shyly. "I, um, I can't sleep." He was holding Francois tightly in his paws.

"Is something wrong?" Eda sat up, almost completely awake. It was entirely unlike King to show up in her room like that.

Raine turned over on their side of the nest, facing Eda, still asleep.

"I had a nightmare," King's voice cracked. Eda immediately picked him up, King wrapping his arms around her neck.

"C'mere, kiddo. Do you wanna talk about it?" Eda asked softly.

King shook his head.

"Everything alright?" Raine's voice came gently. A shifting sound let Eda know Raine had sat up, too. She felt their hand wrap around her shoulder. "Hey, King."

"Sorry," King mumbled, sniffing. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Raine said, Eda could hear their smile. "We all need our mom from time to time."

"He had a nightmare," Eda explained.

"I see." Raine seemed to lean back on the edge of the nest, patting the spot next to them. Eda scooted up and leaned against the nest, next to Raine. King let go of Eda's neck and sat on her lap. "Y'know, when I had nightmares, my mother would sing me lullabies to get me to go back to sleep. Would you like to try that?"

"Um," King seemed nervous, curling against Eda’s stomach. She ran a reassuring hand down his back. 

"It doesn't have to be lullabies," Raine said, summoning Eda’s lute. They played a few soft cords, imbued with a gentle magic, soothing and easy on the heart. 

"Yeah, okay," King said with a little more confidence. 

Raine continued to play, even as Eda’s eyes got heavier, her hand stopped moving over King's back, and her head rested heavily on their shoulder. When she opened her eyes again, the sun was shining through the stained glass window and she had a terrible kink in her neck. She looked over to see Raine, asleep and sprawled in their ridiculous manner, lute resting in their open hand and King curled into their side, Francois tucked snugly under his chin, sound asleep.

It didn't happen very often, but the nights it did happen, Eda would wake to Raine playing that soft tune on the lute, King curled up in their lap. On those nights, she'd turn over and hold King's paw before going back to sleep, so he could have the comfort of both his parents lulling him back to sleep.

She realized, feeling extremely slow, that she had a family, not just something that felt like it had an expiration date. She had her little family, safe from Emperor guards and peril and the uncertainty of when they'd see each other again. And, Titan, she loved them.

prologue | < chapter 2 | chapter 4 >

[bicsbec]

Natural Melodies

Chapter 2: a witch's dance (ao3 link)

It wasn't a question, not really. It was a request. A surreal one at that. There wasn't a single thought in Raine’s head other than, Yes, absolutely, why wouldn't I?

But some semblance of reason snuffed out that little lizard part of their brain, and they instead said, "Wh—wouldn't your kids mind?"

"Heck, they'd probably throw a party if we told them."

Raine grinned. "Would they?"

Eda’s cheeks went rosy. They'd really missed making her blush like that.

" Rainestorm. "

Raine laughed. "Consider it a done deal, Clawthorne."

Eda brightened. "Good, I'm tired of chasing your butt around the Isles."

"I thought owls liked a good chase."

Eda tried hiding her blush with her shoulder, her hand still in Raine’s. 

"This is ridiculous," she grumbled. Raine's heart was thrumming for joy as they leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"It is, but it's also adorable."

When Raine sat back, they saw Eda’s eyes track their lips, like they were pulled by a magnet. Eda posed a silent question when their eyes met. One Raine had been trying to beat back.

Their hand reached up to her face, running a thumb along her cheek. Eda leaned forward, resting her forehead against theirs, and bumping their noses together. Raine's heart was thumping in their ears.

All Raine had to do was tilt their chin to capture Eda’s lips. It was familiar yet startlingly foreign. Eda’s mouth moved against theirs and it was like remembering a second language, long since out of practice. A few words came back, the important ones. The I love you , the I missed you , the I remember you . And that was all Raine needed in that moment.

Eda tugged them forward until they had to stand from their seat. From there, it had been a stumbling mess of feet, tripping over each other trying to get up the stairs. They crashed rather ungracefully into Eda’s bedroom. 

Eda had pinned them against the door, her hands running up their shirt, pressing searing wet kisses to their neck and lips. Raine’s hand was buried in her hair, pulling her closer, breathing her in. Their other hand slipped under her dress, hitching her leg around their waist. Her other leg followed, Raine’s arm bracing the remaining weight. It was easy enough to carry her over to bed and lower her into the mattress, trailing her neck with their tongue. 

Raine was confident they could pick up Eda like they used to do. They weren't as sure about being able to lower her easily, but they could always brace their hands on the bed. And it wasn't like drafting out a path to the bed was a top priority at the moment. Their mind was too entranced to think.

Raine scooped Eda up from under her knees, making Eda pull away from their mouth and wrap all available limbs around them in panic.

"Woah," she loosened her arm from their neck, blushing. "That was really hot."

Raine grinned. "No more than you," their voice came out a little more strained than they'd rather. 

"Don't show off, you might pull something," Eda said, her words laced with humor. She was getting more confident; an echo of herself when they'd been at their best in their relationship.

Raine chuckled breathlessly, taking a few experimental steps. Their back didn't give out and their knees felt good, so every other thought went out the window once more.

Eda tilted their chin up, smiling into the kiss before licking into their mouth. Raine groaned, a swirl of warmth stirring their guts, their knees almost giving out. 

After a few more urgent steps, their legs hit something and they leaned forward, slightly off balance but mostly looking to set her down.

"Mm, Raine, wait—"

But it was too late, Raine bracing their forearm onto nothing and falling forward with a strangled yelp. 

Their glasses had fallen off their face, but that didn't make them insane. Looking around, they knew they'd fallen into the biggest nest they'd even seen in their life. The branches digging into their now-bruised forearm were evidence enough. There was a moment of panic where they thought some giant bird of prey would descend upon them, but they noticed that the few scattered feathers around matched Eda’s hair color. 

They propped themself up on their elbow, looking down at Eda, who was reaching up to their hair, pulling out a twig. 

"You alright?" Eda asked.

"A nest?" That was all they could manage.

"Uh, yeah?" Eda seemed confused, as if the last time they'd been together had been on a pile of twigs and not in a bed.

Raine started laughing, the absurdity crashing into them. " Eda, a nest? "

Eda snorted. "I've got to commit to the bit, y'know?"

"Mm, mhm, the Owl Lady ," they giggled. "Do you sit here and roost?"

"Raine!" Eda was laughing now, too, pushing them off and making them flop on their back. They huffed out a breath, watching as Eda braced her hand on their chest and clambered over their hips to straddle them. Her skirt gathered at the top of her thighs, exposing her pale legs.

"Careful there," Raine whispered playfully, running their hands up her thighs. "You might pull something."

"Yeah, yeah," she said, her mind clearly elsewhere as she looked them up and down, her hand sliding up and leaning forward. "You're wearing too many clothes."

The urgency had bled out of them, preferring to take their time than rushing through the motions. They sighed, squeezing her thighs.

"Then do something about it."

"Gladly," she whispered into their ear, gently biting the lobe and tugging lightly. "But you gotta help me out." She poked their side with her stub. They laughed out a breath, their hands traveling up to her waist.

"Yes, ma'am." 

They sat up, tugging off their shirt; something about feeling Eda help was extremely endearing. She wrapped her arm around their neck and kissed them, indulging in their lips and mouth and tongue.

"Lift your arms for me, love," Raine said against her lips, fingers curled at the helm of her sweater. In one swift motion it was off, easier than it used to be, practiced enough that the muscle memory remained. 

The warmth of her skin against theirs was dizzying, their stomach swirling once more as they flipped them over, pulling away only to stand on their knees and undo their pants as Eda shimmied out of her skirt. Raine could easily recall the last time they'd been in this position, after a huge fight, one of the last ones they had before breaking up.

Eda was a witch of many talents, Raine knew. The most spectacular one being avoidance. Eda knew how to dance around a topic, how not to get pinned. Raine had seen her do it to Principal Faust and her mother, even to Lilith and some of their friends on occasion, but never with them.

The day it finally happened it stung. Bad.

Then it kept happening. 

And then the fights started.

The cold flat of a foot yanked them away from their thoughts. Eda was poking them, laid out on her back, one knee raised towards her chest; their lizard brain came to attention, everything that wasn't Eda in that moment scattering. 

"Hey, where'd you go? We can stop if you want," Eda said gently, tucking a lock of hair behind their ear as Raine settled over her, trailing kisses along her jaw.

"No, no, it's not that. I was just—" They pulled away briefly, letting out a sigh. "I was just thinking of the last time."

"Oh," Eda's eyebrows went up. "Yeah, not our finest hour."

"No, it wasn't." 

As messy as things had gotten between them, there had never been a lack of affection, lack of devotion or love. Raine had hated every word they'd spoken when they broke up, but they had also meant them. 

"Hey, Rainestorm?"

"Yeah?"

"Make it up to me," she said with a casual shrug. Raine huffed a laugh, playfully biting her neck.

"Sure, I can do that."

Eda’s breath became less and less steady, muscles jumping under Raine's lips, teasing and playful. They wandered over her body, tracing old paths and lingering on familiar spots, a slow and savoring descent. They indulged in the feast buried between her trembling legs.

The sounds they pulled from Eda's lips were a melody that hadn't fallen on their ears in many years. It suddenly felt like far too many, the hollow feeling of all the tunes they'd missed, never having the opportunity to compose them for her, have her sing in the way only they could orchestrate. Her whispered prayers and praises spurred them on, eager to please and listen.

Eda's hand found purchase in Raine's hair, her grip tightening, her hips grinding against them without much rhythm, her thighs starting to shake. Her hips canted and her abs tightened as she got closer to the edge. Raine groaned into her, digging their fingers into her thighs and glancing up just in time to see the blood rush to Eda’s cheeks as she pulsed against their mouth. The burst of her resounding pleasure came in surges of rhapsodies and requiems that were born and died on Raine’s tongue.

Raine felt her relax under their fingers, her grip on their hair loosening as well. 

She kept tugging lightly on it, though, silently asking Raine to come up. They licked their lips and wiped their chin, still very much surrounded by her smell and taste. They crawled towards her, hovering over Eda with what they knew to be the goofiest grin.

Eda smirked lazily, looking absolutely stunning in the morning light, still mostly blissed out and content. She wrapped her legs around their waist, bringing them closer. Raine sighed contently, wrapping their arms around Eda, cushioning her back comfortably, and resting their chin on her gem. They always expected it to be cold, but it never was; it was Eda-temperature. 

Her drowsy eyes met theirs, gold and gray and satiated. 

Waking up to her golden eyes was something they never seemed to tire of. They stretched over their blankets, a smile already on their lips. 

"There you are," Eda grinned, her gold fang shining in the moonlight. "You passed out on me."

"I was tired," they mumbled, tucking a loose strand of hair out of her face. She wrapped her arms around their neck, her weight like a comfortable blanket over them.

"We're too young to be tired, Rainestorm."

"We are, but you are insatiable," they sighed, nuzzling her cheek. An idle hand rested on the back of her thigh, tracing soft circles with their thumb. 

She hummed, like she was weighing something in her head. "Well, it's not like you're any better."

"Guess not," Raine mumbled against the side of her mouth. "But it's late, and I have rehearsal tomorrow."

They pulled back to get a look at her, just as she rolled her eyes. "What for? I just know you'll blow them away."

Raine snorted. "Like I did you?"

Eda blushed, but retained that devilish grin of hers. "I certainly hope not."

She kissed them then, the movement of her lips, the shift of her weight, the grind of her hips was enough to melt them into the mattress, enraptured by her. Engulfed and surrounded and wanting nothing else that wasn't Eda.  

Falling asleep was easy when they knew they'd wake up to those golden eyes, easy when they were already spent and drowsy, sleep heavy and lulling.

They ran a lazy hand through her white hair, the streak that marked the severity of her curse, now shared with her sister. Raine had known, or maybe suspected, that Eda would grow older faster. They recalled the gray peaks that had started to show through her orange hair; they'd feared that the curse had made her lifespan shorter. But Eda remained vital, if only dismemberable. 

She seemed older now, much older than the few months she actually had on Raine, the grays of their hairs mismatched. Raine wondered again if they would outlive her, a thought that hadn't plagued them in decades.

Eda’s hand was playing with their face, running soft fingers over their nose and lips and jaw. They kissed her fingers every time they could, making her smile. That smile was everything. It was reserved for them alone, a gentle thing between blankets and twigs. 

Raine leaned forward and kissed her nose, widening her smile. Something content and warm, so deliciously warm , settled in their chest.

"Y'know, when we were younger, I always thought I'd be waking up to those same golden eyes of yours every morning." Their hand combed back her grayer hair, caressed her cheek with a careful thumb, her skin wrinkling slightly with every pass. "I never thought I'd be so excited to wake up to different eyes."

Her eyes crinkled up in a smile. "You sap."

"I love you."

Eda leaned over, kissing them softly. "I love you."

There was something so unspeakably delicious about Eda’s soft kisses, warm and plush and imbued with love in such a way that left Raine speechless.

"So, what are we doing about you," she said, combing back their hair. Raine shook their head gently, nuzzling their noses together.

"Nothing much," they said, pecking her lips in between phrases. "I wasn't kidding about checking on the kids. And I'll have to get some stuff from the Knee. We can do something later. Or whenever."

"Mm," she held them against her lips, "I like the sound of whenever." 

"Me, too."

They would've stayed in Eda's nest all day, they probably would've when they were in their twenties, but they'd promised Amber to stop by if they were ever in the area. So, Raine begrudgingly gathered up their clothes and slipped on their boots, like a responsible adult. 

"Where're you headed now?" Eda asked, still tangled in blankets, being entirely unhelpful with Raine's goal of heading out. 

Nowhere, if you convince me.

"The Right Arm; Derwin found a nice apartment in the Ulna Suburbs."

Eda wrinkled her nose. "Where the high-brow jerks squat."

Raine snorted. 

"I could give you a lift," she offered. "It's a hell of a walk."

"Sure, I'd like that." Raine didn't mention how the walk from the Knee to Bonesborough was longer. They weren't about to turn down more time with her. 'Making up for lost time' felt like an insufficient phrase. They could never really make up for it, but they could take what they could now, time with Eda becoming novel.

Much to their disappointment, Eda started searching for her clothes and putting them on. Their lizard brain booed.

They made their way downstairs, Eda picking up her slippers from where they littered the staircase. She summoned Owlbert, the little owl turning into a staff for its witch.

"Hey, Rainestorm?" She asked, mounting the staff.

"Yes, love?" They got on, wrapping their arms around her waist, resting their chin on her shoulder.

"Your palisman—"

"Hm," their heart pounded a little heavier at the thought. "They took her when I became Head Witch."

They felt Eda stiffen under their touch.

"I'm sorry about that, Raine," she said seriously, as they kicked off, Hooty opening the door for them.

"I thought I could get her back, but I never thought she'd be gone."

"Bastard. If I could kill him again, I would."

If it wasn't for the fact that Raine had also plotted acts of violence against Belos, they would've startled at her words. Raine sighed, frustrated that they couldn't do anything, regarding Belos or their beloved palisman. 

"You know, Hunter has started carving palismen," Eda said after a while. The sentence didn't make sense to Raine. 

Hunter; Darius called him princeling, he had no clear lineage, only that Belos called him nephew. He'd been a part of the emperor's hunt for palismen, which he seemed to fixate on for a while, asking the other Coven Heads questions whenever they crossed paths with him. Now he was Hunter Noceda, part of Luz's family and by consequence, part of Eda’s. 

Raine often found themself trying to find their footing, the wild displacement of events that occurred while they were the Collector's toy still jumbled in their head.

"That's nice," was all Raine could think to say.

"I'm sure he'd, um, be happy to take a commission."

Raine considered her words, mulling over the meaning behind them. Hunter must've been Eda’s apprentice, carving palismen and learning wild magic.

Oh. A new palisman for them .

"That's too generous, Eda," they said, squeezing her softly. "I'm too old. It'd be wiser if they were reserved for younger witches."

"Your magic still matters."

"My magic has served its purpose. I'm good with that. But thank you, seriously."

"The offer stands."

"I know, love."

"Speak your most genuine desire."

"I want my music to mean something,  change something."

The palisman in their hand came to life, taking its first shaking breath. She blinked at them and made a friendly chatter. Hello, my name is Droplet…

Raine loved her.

Raine missed her, but there was nothing to be gained dwelling. They only wished she could've see their magic mean something to the Isle, mean something to Eda and her family.

They flew the rest of the way in comfortable silence, passing over patches of red pine, towns, and villages on their way. The sky swirled soft vapors of pink and orange, the air heavier with magic. Raine absently whistled. It was a new tune they were working and reworking in their mind. It changed the smell to their mother's kitchen and the herbs that dried there, the wind became a gentle breeze even as they continued to fly. It was supposed to feel like coming home, but something was still missing.

They finally touched down at the entrance to the suburbs, Raine stepping off of Owlbert.

"That's a new one," Eda commented.

"Hm? Oh, that. Work in progress," they said, straightening their clothes from the ride.

"I liked it. Reminds me of when we were kids," she said, clearly trying to remember something. "Did your mother hum it in her kitchen?"

"She might've." Raine hadn't thought of it.

"You always took after her," Eda said with a smile. Something about that made Raine feel their face warm. Eda chuckled. "Cute. Anyway, do you want me to pick you up later?"

"Uh, no. Don't worry about it. You're busy later," Raine said, pushing the staff down so they could kiss Eda.

"You staying tonight?" She asked, tilting her head away, a playful smirk on her lips. They wanted to kiss it away.

"Only if your kids are fine with it."

"I'll see you tonight, then."

Raine chuckled. "Okay, sure."

She leaned down, catching their lips for a quick kiss.

"Okay, shorty."

"Eda!"

She laughed, Owlbert flying out of reach. "Love you!"

They couldn't retain a single grain of irritation, bursting out laughing as Eda flew away.

"Love you, too," they called, shaking their head and smiling like an idiot as they walked toward the BATs' building.

Katya answered the door, looking surprised to see Raine.

"Poet, it's so good to see you," she smiled, her surprise quickly replaced with delight. "Amber's been wondering when you'd show up."

"I was around," Raine said with an easy smile. "Wanted to see how you’ve been."

"C'mon in," Katya said, stepping aside.

Derwin's letter had been an understatement when he'd said nice. It was a spacious apartment, with presumably separate rooms for all three of them. Raine couldn't see the kitchen from the entrance, but they could smell it, someone was making lunch. The space was lived-in, a cozy mess that was evidence of its residents; papers scattered at the coffee table, probably new drafts Katya was working in; Derwin's archive scrolls were tucked in the bookshelf that lined the wall or on the armchair in the corner, like he'd put them down and forgotten about them there; shoes and socks Raine recognized as Amber's were littered around the apartment, on the couch and entrance, like she'd gotten back form a concert and left an exhausted trail towards her room.

"Poet Raine’s here!" Katya called to her roommates.

Little feet pitter-pattered toward the living space, Amber popping up in an excited hover, her wings carrying her briefly. 

"Raine!"

"Hello," they smiled warmly. Amber had always amused Raine, her enthusiasm for Bard magic rivaling their own. 

"Derwin's in the kitchen," Katya said. 

"Be there in a minute!" He called almost as soon as Katya finished.

Amber wasted no time showing Raine the new pieces she was working on, along with the arrangements she was working out for bassoon, tambourine, and violin. Raine instinctively gave her some tips on the key changes and harmonies. 

Derwin came out with lunch for the girls, two steaming bowls of pixie tongue stew. 

"Have you eaten already, poet?"

"Uh, um," Raine blushed, shaking their head quickly. "No, I haven't."

"Would you like some stew?"

"Sounds lovely."

They ate and chatted, catching up and discussing their lives without the coven. None of them had stopped being bards, not really. Derwin was determined to immortalize the events that had transpired, what had led up to them, revising old scrolls and drafting out edits to have more accurate accounts. It was his way to continue fighting against Belos and the intricate lies that survived him.

Katya continued to create stories, narratives of love and taboos and eventual happiness; even foods deserved that. Her mind was something Raine marveled at, her creativity and conviction truly exemplary of the Bard Coven.

Amber made sure they continued to practice their instruments and magic, she'd made sure it was what put food on the table. They played small gigs for the Ulna's finest residents, a decent amount of snails earned. It's what Amber was writing pieces for.

"I'd love to come and hear you play sometime," Raine said excitedly. They knew of some bards that still performed all over the Isles, but these were the BATs. Hearing them play outside the context of Offensive Spelling sounded delightful.

"Actually," Amber said, animatedly looking over at her roommates, "we were wondering if you'd like to play with us."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," Raine said quickly.

" Pleeeease? You already fixed the violin arrangement. It's totally awesome now; you can't not play it."

Raine had looked over the piece and it did seem very fun to play. Their fingers itched to play it, see how it felt and flowed. And Amber was using the pout that got them to deliver that terrible speech in the town square at Bonesborough. There wasn't much use fighting it.

"Alright, yes. I'd love to," they said earnestly. 

" Yes! I told you they'd do it," Amber said, pointing at Derwin. He shook his head with a soft smile. "When are you free for rehearsal? Wait, are you still up at the Knee?"

"That won't be a problem for much longer. I'm moving to Bonesborough." Even as they said the words, they still felt a little surreal.

"Perfect! Let us know when you’ve settled in and we can schedule practices."

"Sounds good."

In reality, it sounded fucking spectacular.

prologue | < chapter 1 | chapter 3 >

[bicsbec]

Natural Melodies

Chapter 1: don't tell me not to worry (ao3 link)

Eda had promises to keep. Hell was over and once the terror dissipated, all Eda could do was bundle up her kids in a tight hug. She didn't let them go for a long while.

The Isles progressively stopped being the hollow carcass of the Collector's playground. Witches and demons resettled into the Titan's familiar bones, everyone where they should be—or in some cases, used to be.

Raine drifting back to their cottage in the Knee made Eda restless. She wanted to march up and knock down their door, drag them back down, hold them close. But she also knew Raine needed time. Time to settle into reality, come to terms with what they went through, what they didn't do, what was out of their hands.

Eda didn't hold any of it against them, but she was sure it weighed on them anyway. But Eda could wait. What was a little more time?

And life was busy enough as it was.

Eda settled into her bones, too, arm missing, curse ever persistent. 

Sure would've been handy if it could regrow limbs.

Eda snorted at her own joke as she juggled through the set up of her stand. The economy in Bonesborough was slowly picking up, which meant suckers to swindle. It was a comfortable routine, familiar. It brought a sense of normalcy to the market floor, almost making business boom.

She'd sort through garbage, keep the shinnies for herself, and bag the rest over to the market.

The waves of customers were the predictable ebbs of the old days. Fussy mornings, slow noons, and bustling afternoons. As busy as they were, the afternoons were Eda’s favorite part of the day. Her kids and company got out of school to hover around the stand, bringing wandering eyes with their presence (and being free child labor). But most of all, Eda got to hear Luz talk, it never really mattered what it was about, Luz would talk and Eda had stopped taking that for granted a long time ago. 

"We still don't have class class," Luz was saying this time. She'd arrived with only Bossy Boots, Hunter and his posse having Flyer Derby practice. Boots was mesmerized by the spinning star pinched between Luz's fingers, a fidget whatever; Luz was mesmerized by Boots as she talked.

They were sickly sweet to watch. But she supposed she'd been that way once, too.

"The preschoolers are still hunting in packs—like, they go home and everything, they just come to school feral," Luz continued. "And Willow is still trying to figure out how to humanely kill her orchids, but—"

"No class," Eda finished.

"Yeah. Mostly clean up. I don't think the cafeteria will ever smell the same, though."

Eda laughed. "And how's the fella?"

Luz brightened. "Still stubborn," she giggled, pulling out the egg out of her bag. "I'll get through to ya, buddy."

Boots smiled at that. "You are something else," she said, endeared. Luz's determination was more than admirable. It was truly a wonder why her palisman hadn't hatched yet.

Luz blushed at her tone. "Y'know, when I said I wanted to earn my staff the hard way, I never thought it'd be this hard."

"Maybe they're testing if you meant it," Eda nudged her encouragingly. "Now let's pack up and head home. I want to be in my slippers and have a glass of apple blood in my hand."

"Yes, ma'am," Luz and Boots chorused; Luz, playfully and Boots more seriously. Boots elbowed Luz then.

"Oh, and I forgot to ask," Luz said with a start. "Ami— we wanted to know if I could go over to Amity's for a study date later tonight."

"And study what? You just told me you didn't have class."

Boots got bright pink.

"My palisman?"

Eda snorted. "Sure, yeah. Alright, fine, go be in love and all that mess," Eda ruffled her hair, curls longer than they used to be.

It was a relief to hear Luz sound more like herself. The first few weeks there was a lingering sadness in her eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Luz had run herself into the ground trying to find a way back to the Boiling Isles. That she dove in head first the moment she could. That a sense of guilt hung around her, clung to her even as she got her friends back home. Some of that sadness still lingered, but it was easily overshadowed by her tenacity and sunny disposition. Settling back into familiar bones.

The door to the Owl House swung open as Eda and her two shadows hauled in the market goods. The house was mostly back to its normal self, only a few furnishings having been replaced.

"Luz!" King rushed to hug her leg and crawl up her shoulder. "I missed you! I'm going insane in this house, and not in the good way."

"What am I? Stale bread?" Eda protested, stuffing the goods in their rightful closet.

"You're the one who left me here in the first place. Hooty and Aunt Lilith are insufferable. It's diabolical."

"You balance them out," Eda said, scooping him up and tickling his belly. He started rolling in her arms, laughing and pushing her hand away. It was difficult to not drop him with all his squirming and her inability to hold him properly.

"Weh! Wait, s-stop. PLEASE." King squirmed too hard and dropped to the floor.

"Oops. Sorry, kiddo."

He crawled back up Luz's shoulder, this time hiding from Eda. She smiled.

Truth was, she didn't want King out on the market floor. People were weird about him being a Titan. They either wanted to kiss his feet or chop them off. She'd rather have her son alive for the time being.

The house rumbled and from upstairs Hooty's voice came screeching down. "HUNTER'S HOME, HOOT." 

"Hooty! Inside voice!"

"TOWER ROOM."

"LILY, MAKE HIM LISTEN!" Eda called. She heard a faint voice and something similar to Hootsifer, which was good enough for her. "Alright, I'll go check on him. You kids start dinner."

"But we have the study date," Luz reminded her.

"And I'm left with your aunt and two growing boys. Help and you can head out."

"Okay…" Luz grumbled, but it was mostly for show. They mostly bickered for the novelty of it, how mundane it was; there was an unspoken satisfaction that came from that familiarity. 

The study in the tower had never been tidy, but the corner that Hunter had taken up was neater than most of the house in general. Eda supposed it was some remnants of his scout training.

"Hey, kid," Eda knocked on the door frame, stepping inside. "Watcha working on?"

From her spot in the room, Eda could see little blocks of wood scattered on the surface of the otherwise neat desk, clippings and sawdust littering the perimeter. Perched on his shoulder was a patched up Flapjack, Hunter's handiwork having sealed his fractured wood. The little red cardinal was supervising its witch's work, chirping in soft approval. Leather gloves on, Hunter was making crude little figures with the old chisel she'd given him, sharp thunks heard softly from across the room.

"Just practicing, Miss Eda."

She made her way across the room and inspected the rough figures.

"Want a crack at the real deal?"

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. All you gotta do is put bevel to bark, like my old man used to say."

Hunter's eyes lit up, excitement creeping its way into his eyes.

"Yeah, okay."

"Just put bevel to bark, pumpkin," her father said soothingly. "The rest will follow."

"As long as I follow the grain," Eda finished.

Her dad smiled, eyes bright. "Precisely."

He took a block of palistrom wood and placed it in one of her hands and a gouge in the other. "Go ahead."

She'd practiced on red pine wood for days, she could almost carve the shape in her sleep. Eda could feel the difference between grains immediately, adjusting the angle of the bevel accordingly. She guided the gouge over the surface, creating the initial contours of the palisman.

Dell mostly gave her pointers or gentle reminders. This was her project, his hand would only point, not steer.

The form of an owl slowly made itself clearer, becoming smoother and more defined the more she worked on it. Sandpaper smoothed out the remaining irregularities over the palisman's surface.

The dad took it to give it a final wash, turning it over in his hands appreciatively. 

"That's a proper owl."

Eda beamed, something soft fluttering in her chest. Her father toweled off the wood and handed it back to her. "You know what to do."

Hunter's hands were steady, meticulous. Eda smirked at his extremely proper posture, bevel away from his body, keeping the gouge aligned with the grain of the wood, fingers tucked away from the gouge's path.

Chips slowly peeled away to reveal a creature Hunter called a wolf. Eda thought it bore some resemblance to King. She took it from his hands for a final wash, which proved harder now that it had a more detailed surface. 

As Hunter toweled it off, she said, "That's a proper palisman, kid."

Eda watched him cradle the wolf in his hands, watched him turn it over in his hands in silent awe.

Flapjack walked down his arm, inspecting the petrified figure in his hand. He made a faint chirp and Hunter smiled.

"Thanks, Flap."

The cardinal didn't chirp as much as he used to, but Eda had a sneaking suspicion that the pair still understood each other.

Eda's eyes stung, her heart warm at the sight of a brand new palisman, at the sight of the Clawthorne legacy taking flight right in front of her eyes. The Clawthornes had always been wild witches, learned in the natural ways of magic, wielding a wonderfully loud melange of power. 

Eda was immensely proud of Hunter, of his natural curiosity, of his determination to learn wild magic, to bring new magic into the Isles. 

"You give wild witches a good name, kiddo," Eda said earnestly.

Hunter beamed, like he'd just received the highest praise in the world. "Thank you, Miss Eda."

Eda gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, almost a side hug. She was getting better at the whole motherly-displays-of-affection thing. Hunter sat upright, like he'd suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, Titan," he said excitedly. "I have to show Luz!"

"She might be on her way to Amity's."

"Got it!" He stood and grabbed his staff, Flapjack already anticipating his needs. In a glitching yellow flash, Hunter was off, racing after his sister.

Life was good at the Owl House. Her kids were safe, happy, alive . She couldn't ask for more.

Okay, she could ask for one more thing.

It was curled up in her nest that the thought trickled in most persistently, scrolling through Penstagram. Blight and his newest monstrosity, Gilbert and his home projects, Bossy Boots and Luz, and Raine. Their posts hardly ever contained them, but Eda knew from the scenery of the sunset or the assortment of neatly placed instruments that it was their post.

Eda hardly resisted clicking on their profile every time they crossed her screen. Her heart stuttered stupidly in her chest when she saw their picture. Their lively smile, eyes bright and focused, the age lines on their face served as proof of how much they tended to laugh. Her Raine. Her Raine that hadn't been hers in over twenty years. That had reignited something in her heart a couple of years ago. That kept slipping away when they were just within reach. 

Eda cycled through these thoughts most nights, as infuriating as it was becoming. Nauseating, really. She tossed her scroll out of her nest and curled herself comfortably among the soft twigs and thin branches. Sleep came slowly and densely. 

Mornings were once a circus; now, Eda didn't really have a word for the proper disaster mornings were, especially on days when Lily stayed over.

King was loud and animated if he'd woken up before Eda, which was usually the case; he was too bright for her grouchy state after just waking up. Lily had her obnoxious morning rituals which she'd tragically kept well into adulthood; Eda hadn't missed them. Luz and Hunter had picked up a nasty habit in the Human Realm of arguing throughout the whole morning. 

Mornings were loud, far too loud for Eda to be any kind of polite.

That was why she entered her kitchen with extreme aversion. Her children were scattered around the space, each suspicious of interrupting the eerie quiet of this morning. King was walking on the table and launching himself out through the window. Luz and Hunter seemed half asleep still, their clumsy movements making their dishes clatter as they gathered their breakfast, glowering; if Eda was careful enough, she could get her coffee and avoid their impending fight. 

The floor vibrated slightly, the short peace in the house about to be destroyed. Eda braced, already irritated. 

"RAINE’S HOME," Hooty squawked, the loudest sound on the Isles as far as Eda was concerned. 

Eda marched to the living room, temper hardly contained.

"Hooty! How many times have I told you—"

The door swung open and the rest died in her throat. Hooty's words sunk in. Raine was standing at the entrance, fist raised, like they'd been knocking. 

"Raine. You're h—" home "here."

They gave her a half smile. "Apparently, I hated the cold on the Knee, too."

Eda felt herself smile. Apparently my parents always hated the cold on the Knee.

"Come on in."

Raine stepped through the threshold and all Eda could think was that a piece had fallen into place, something calm and ecstatic washing over her. It was a perfect morning.

"It's literature , Hunter!" Luz shouted from the kitchen.

"It's degeneracy!" Hunter shouted back, something clattering like he'd pounded the table.

"Is everything okay in there?" Raine asked with a smirk, looking past over to the kitchen.

Eda shrugged. "I dunno. Kids, y'know?"

"Yes, I can hear."

"It's a disservice to O'Bailey's character!"

" It's not that deep. "

"I'm calling Gus."

"I'll just call Mamá."

"Mamá would agree with me!"

"I was gonna get myself some coffee. You want some?"

"Only if you can survive going in there."

Eda winked and waved them into the kitchen.

"Alright, ya weirdos, that's enough. We've got company. Behave."

"Hey, Raine," Luz switched easily to a more civil tone.

Hunter straightened in his chair comically. "Coven Head Whispers." The tips of his ears were pink. 

"Not anymore," Raine smiled kindly.

"Right. Sorry."

"Don't you have school or something?" Eda asked as she pulled out two mugs.

"Grudgby semi finals," Luz said. "The season started up again almost immediately. Bump is flying us over to Glandus to watch."

"I've got practice with the team," Hunter piped in. "Professor Hermonculus booked up our competition schedule."

"Hexside always did drop everything for its athletes," Raine said with a lilt of humor in their voice.

"Came with its perks," Eda shrugged.

"I'll say."

Eda shook her head with a smirk, pouring the hot liquid into the mugs.

"You need help over there?"

Raine was asking, but they were already picking up the mugs. Eda felt her face warm at the sudden proximity.

Owlbert peaked his head out of Eda’s hair and hooted at the sight of Raine. He took off, flying circles around their head. Raine chuckled, making Eda’s heart squeeze.

"Hello, Owlbert. Long time no see."

Eda tore herself away from the scene for a moment, turning to Luz.

"Luz, why don't you take King to the game. Sneak him in your bag or something. He's starting to climb the walls and it's tearing the wallpaper."

"Sure, no problem," she said easily. "Why haven't you been taking him to the market, though?"

"Yeah!" King's voice came, his head popping up from the kitchen window.

Eda huffed. Raine gave her a curious glance.

"It's filled with crooks."

"You're a crook," King countered.

"Fair. There's a new dress-code?"

"Ha! I'm not falling for your tricks! The market square would never make people wear clothes."

" Fine , I don't know how people will react to you. Last time, they almost ran over the stand to get to ya."

"I thought you were just more popular now."

"They were trying to cook you."

"Oh. Well, that's unsettling."

"Well, I think that settles it," Luz said, standing from the table. "Come on, we'd better head out if Hunter doesn’t want to be late for practice."

King jumped through the window, climbing into Luz's bag, his little feet kicking until he settled inside. Hunter cleared the table and Luz and him shifted into the part of the day where they got along just fine. Time in the Human Realm made them weirder than they already were.

"Have a good day," Eda called after them.

"Bye, Eda. Bye, Raine," Luz waved.

"Weh!"

"You, too," Hunter called as he opened the door for Luz.

And they were off.

"Empty nest," Raine commented.

"Yeah," Eda chuckled, looking over to them. Raine stood with a half smile, their glasses steamed over from the mugs in their hands and Owlbert was perched on their shoulder happily. It would've been the perfect sight if that snapshot of domesticity were real and not just painfully circumstantial.

Even so, Eda smiled back.

"Wanna talk?"

"I'd love to," Raine said easily.

Eda could've talked with Raine for hours. It was easy. They talked about schemes and the last RATS concert they'd caught, about their parents' pestering and living together, about what felt good during sex and what could've been better, about the steeping times of teas and ' No, Eda, you can't just boil the shit out of it. ' 

There were some things they didn't talk about, like Eda’s curse, a lingering shadow that hung over them whenever Eda got squirmy, being clever with her words, twisting and weaving until the subject was almost naturally dropped.

But talking was something they could do, usually. They could laugh and it was easy, mostly.

Until it wasn't.

Eda’s stomach was a nervous pit. She felt the few sips of coffee she'd had swirling around her insides, threatening to come up. She hadn't felt that kind of anxiety in years . It felt silly to be sitting at her dining table with the nervous energy of a teenager that didn't know how to act around their crush. It was ridiculous. She should've felt like an adult that didn't know how to act around their crush. 

Talking used to be easy. So why did it feel like she couldn't get her mouth to work properly?

Raine seemed at ease at the table, amused by Owlbert as he sat up and down on their shoulder, playing with the weight of their earring on his little head. 

"Some things never change," they chuckled. Their hands played with the mug, shifting the handle from one side to another. Idle fidgeting. Eda felt like sprinting out the window.

"So, um," Eda worked her mouth around actual words, "cold up there, huh?"

Raine snorted. "Yes, very. The stiff joints in the mornings were getting harder to ignore."

"And how are you doing?" Eda would've honest to Titan twiddled her thumbs; instead, she rapped her fingers against the table. She wanted to smack herself.

"Better, I think. A change of scenery will definitely do me some good. Stiff joints are a little too close to, well, that , for comfort," they cleared their throat. "Being down here will help. Familiar faces and all that. Check in on the kids, y'know." They waved a hand, like it explained everything away.

"Well, it's good that you're taking care of yourself," Eda said rather lamely. It was taking all of her self control not to blurt out something even stupider like, 'Move in with me.'

Raine was looking out the window, enjoying how the sunbeam cast on the table warmed their hands. They seemed to be indulging in the moment, like they weren't sure the next time they'd be next to Eda in her kitchen. Something quiet and desperate in Eda wanted that next time to be every day that followed for as long as Raine would tolerate her.

Raine smiled. "Yes, no need to worry."

"Raine Whispers, don’t tell me not to worry," the words left Eda without permission. But they were true. Eda lost sleep worrying about Raine, about how they were coping after they'd been the Collector's plaything.

Eda had stood by helplessly, watching Raine suspended in a stiff posture, blank eyes and permanent smile plastered on their face. She'd talk to them endlessly, easy enough when she knew she didn't have to hear their answers, their rejection. She'd visit them constantly, hoping naively that that alone would've been enough to free them, that every confession that she'd uttered was a step closer to having her Raine back, that her love would be enough . 

It hadn't mattered that she'd only received silence, it hadn't mattered that Hooty could talk back to Lilith, it hadn't mattered that it had destroyed Eda’s heart in contorted and painful ways. She'd still visit. Still worried. Until their eyes cleared and they took their first real breath in nearly a year, Eda worried.

Raine’s hand reached out, covering her fidgeting fingers. It was warm and rough, the fingertips hardened by years of playing their violin. It was suffocatingly familiar. It felt like drowning in honey.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" Their thumb circled gently over the back of her hand. "I mean I'm here now. For good. I don’t want to go back."

"To the Knee?"

"To the Knee. To being alone. To being cold," they looked up, searching her face. "I'm tired of—"

"Chasing?" Eda would never admit how desperately hopeful she sounded.

" Yes. " Raine took Eda hand in both of theirs, their palms fitting together and tugging at Eda’s heartstrings. "I'm tired of being silent, too. Of pretending I didn’t hear your every plea, of wishing it had been a nightmare." Eda's stomach sank . Their grip tightened on her hand. "It was torture, Eda. I wanted to scream, to fight you, to tell you you were wrong, reassure you that it was impossible for me to not love you. Because of course I love you. I've never stopped loving you, Eda."

"Raine…"

"Yes, Eda?"

"Move in with me."

< prologue | chapter 2 >

[bicsbec]

Natural Melodies

Prologue: you'd be a mess without me (ao3 link)

Their tea had gone cold. Which was unsurprising, really. Having warm tea as they sat in their rocker on their porch had always been more of a nice idea than an achievable practice. 

Raine liked the quiet contemplation that mornings brought, the distant sound of beasts rustling through the woods, the charmed snow, the particular atmosphere that was characteristic of the Knee, raw magic. Primal and untamed. 

Raine huffed, looking down at the cold liquid, frustrated with themself. It reminded them of Eda. Of course, it did. Maybe that's why they drifted back to the Knee after their break up, drifted back even after—they shook their head, scattering those thoughts.

She was magic as the Titan intended, unrestrained and unregulated. 

Raine never really regretted sealing away their magic, they'd never been interested in anything other than Bard magic, but now it was a little silly. Covens and regulation seemed like the stupidest idea a witch could ever conceive. 

That's probably why no witch actually conceived it , they thought bitterly.

They shook their head, whistling to warm their tea. Not that they really minded the cold.

Ever since they were young, the cold had been a close companion to Raine. Growing up on the Knee did that, being fascinated by Bard magic did that, being St. Epiderm's IFWOT mascot did that. 

Raine had grown fond of it.

They had always liked how the air shifted around them when they serenaded the Titan in private little concerts they held on their way home from school. It was a habit they had kept in adulthood, warming up in the mornings before heading out to their Coven duties. 

Raine set their tea down and summoned their violin, playing a few scales, gentle ebbs of magic dispersing into the air. The atmosphere still shifted around them, an old friend with a familiar embrace.

Moving back to the Knee had seemed like the most natural thing to do when they'd broken up. It felt appropriate to be enveloped by that familiar cold as they propelled through their life, their coven, their music, and further away from her.

Cold was what Raine had needed.

As the echoes of their violin faded among the branches and the air shifted back into that unforgiving, bracing cold, Raine couldn't fathom another second in the cold. 

Flashes of limp limbs and cold skin and unseeing eyes took over their senses. Impotence and dread. A pang of warm guilt.

Drifting back to the Knee had been an impulse. A search for normalcy after a long waking nightmare. It had been a mistake, unthinking and isolating.

Raine was tired of the cold. They looked down to find the cup of tea had stopped steaming. 

They threw it out and headed back inside with a sigh.

—

She was everything that was warm. Kindness, mischief, adrenaline, lust, chaos. Eda was everything. She showed Raine that maybe the cold wasn't something to be fond of. 

She showed Raine friendship, stomach butterflies, pandemonium in its most intoxicating form. She was a force to witness. 

And at times, she was just insane.

A tile wobbled at Raine’s foot, making them look away from their notes on Dissonance spelling. Before they knew what was happening, a grudgby ball flew up from the floor and up through the ceiling. Professor Gurdyhurd didn't seem to notice, not that he would've noticed if half the classroom was on fire or not.

Raine looked down again and spotted Eda’s mischievous grin. They looked up and saw Darius waving through the ceiling door, grudgby ball in hand. Hexside was riddled with too many passages for its own sake.

Eda popped onto the floor, beckoning Raine closer.

"Wanna play? In doors? " She seemed proud of her pun.

"I'm in class," Raine said, not being able to help the smile spreading across their lips.

She scoffed, louder than necessary. "Hardly."

They looked up toward the professor, his worn skin too baggy to keep his eyes open and half deaf from spelling incidents.

"Aaand you could probably whistle circles around that guy," Eda added. 

It wasn't a hard decision. Raine closed their notebook. 

"Heck, yeah! Rainestorm making an appearance!"

A fluttering warmth spread through Raine's stomach. They jumped through the floor, following Eda.

—

It was almost an act of the Titan himself, how Raine found themself in front of the Owl House. It wasn't a hard decision to make, it was hardly a decision at all. They brought a fist to the door, the softest knock thudding, a hardly there thump.

"RAINE’S HOME," Hooty shrilled, slithering out of his hole.

Raine felt a familiar warmth flood their stomach at the words. Words almost foreign to their ears.

"Hooty! How many times have I told you—" the door swung open, interrupting whatever came next.

There she was, slightly dishevelled, like she'd gotten up not too long ago, in a stained sweater, a long moth-eaten skirt, and a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers. Raine’s heart nearly stopped when her mismatched eyes met theirs; she was so stunning, their Eda.

"Raine. You're h—here."

"Apparently, I hated the cold on the Knee, too."

Eda smiled, a soft understanding thing.

"Come on in."

Raine followed.

chapter 1 >

[bicsbec]

The Illusionist (ao3 link)

Augustus Porter had had an uncanny knack for Illusions from a young age. He could reproduce his dad’s broadcast from the crystal ball in almost exact detail as well as produce a broadcast entirely of his own device, making his dad say silly things until Perry was in stitches from laughing.

He’d been a quiet child, mostly lost in his own head, having a careful eye for the things that surrounded him. Illusions spilled out of him like drawings, each one a curious experiment to see how close he could get to the real thing.

Human junk was his favorite thing to observe. His dad had always been amused by how Augustus called them treasures, but he never discouraged his son’s fascination. The materials were so different from that of the Demon Realm. Hard plastics and glossy paper and elaborate metal contraptions with inexplicable lenses. New surfaces and objects to mimic.

As the years in his track went by, Gus realized his heart lay in the Human Realm and its strange and fascinating customs. Illusions were easy and rather useless compared to the stuff his friends could do. Magic could be so much more than the intangible. 

But that was before. Before they faced down Belos, before Gus could sort through memories, before they got stuck in the one place he’d always wanted to get lost in. Before his illusions were the only window to the Demon Realm, as artificial as it might’ve been.

Magic was magic, whatever shape it took. He wasn’t going to take it for granted now. Especially seeing how crestfallen Luz was, one of the more impressive witches Gus had ever witnessed, now without the Isles’s power and nothing to fuel her glyphs.

And his dad had always wanted him to be a Master Illusionist, which was easy enough. Perry Porter always thought his son was Head Witch material, always encouraged his strong suits and passions. 

And Gus missed him terribly. So, Master Illusionist he would become, in every shape and form he could muster. 

Gus was taken with movies. It turned out those silver disks made for terrible cookies, but created incredible projections onto the rectangular crystal ball in Luz’s living room. They were called movies, images that were engraved into the disk and told the same story over and over again. None of them were real, showing stories in the stars and underwater and in fictional lands. But there was one that gripped Gus, one that shook him and told him to pay attention. It was called The Apparitionist. It was about a man that did human illusions, magic “tricks.”

Gus had to learn them.

“Hey, Luz, Hunter,” he said, peering over Luz’s shoulder at the dining table. Hunter sat on the other end, struggling to keep his eyes open. They both snapped to attention at Gus’s presence, Luz slapping her hands over her notebook and Hunter crossing his arms over the book in front of him. Totally not suspicious. Gus rolled his eyes.

After wrangling Belos at the Day of Unity, Gus had a vivid impression of that monster’s worst memories and what he suspected Luz and Hunter were keeping quiet as they researched ways back home: Belos had been human, the human that created the portal door, he’d created Grimwalkers, which seemed like something Hunter didn’t want to talk about, and Luz had helped him unknowingly. They were completely innocent, victims to Belos’s vile plots, yet they seemed completely guilt ridden. 

Gus wished they wouldn’t be. But he wasn’t going to pressure them into talking before they were ready.

“Gustonimo!” Luz exclaimed nervously. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Okay, so,” he started, spreading his hands like he was setting the scene, generously ignoring how awkward and obvious they were being, “there’s this movie, and it had magic, like human magic, and I need to learn everything about it, so I need to borrow your library card.”

“Like, close up magic?” Luz asked, rubbing at her eye and relaxing at the sight of Gus’s theatrics. “You could look up videos on MewTube.”

“Really? That’s all it takes?”

“Well, no–actually, there might be paywalls,” Luz said, starting to lift up the covers of books littered on the surface of the table. “Oh, here it is,” she handed Gus her library card, “look up videos, but check out some books, too. Those are free.”

“Yes! Thank you, Luz!” He hugged her head before bolting out of the dining room.

“Take Willow! And look both ways before crossing the street!”

“Got it!”

Willow was outside with Amity, watching Ghost sunbathe. The palisman was belly up, stretching her little arms out on the grass. Amity was visibly enamored. Gus considered Amity lucky to have such a “normal-looking” palisman; apparently Emmiline was too big for Human Realm standards, so she couldn’t just hang around unsupervised. 

“Hey, Gus,” Willow greeted warmly. “You headed somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, snapping out of his thoughts. “I’m going to the library to check out some books. You guys wanna come?”

“More research?”

“Sort of? I wanna figure out how to do human magic,” he said, wiggling his fingers mysteriously. 

“Sounds fun,” Willow said, standing from the porch steps. “I might look into native flowers. I keep trying to conjure different plants, but they come out wrong. Then they die.” She shrugged. “Might help if I understand the stuff that’s from here.”

“Come here, Ghost,” Amity called, dusting herself off. “I’ve been meaning to check out the library. Like, the rest of it. See how the human side lives, y’know. When I go with Luz it’s always strictly business. She’s always so stressed, I don’t have the heart to ask to wander around.”

“Cool,” Gus brightened, “then we better take care of these.” He waved a circle, hiding their ears with an illusion. Amity’s hand hovered over her ear, something sad lingered in the gesture for a moment, but then it was gone. 

They made their way over to the library, discussing the things they wanted to look up first and looking both ways before crossing every road, as instructed. They almost got run over only two times, which was less than the first few times they’d been outside.

Plenty of things were different from the library back home. Nothing floated or tried to eat your hand if you had a late fee. But a lot was the same, like the strict rule of silence and the frown on the librarians’ faces when they thought you might be a particularly loud visitor.

Gus presented the librarian on shift Luz’s card. A corner of her mouth tightened. 

“Ms. Noceda still has a great number of books on loan,” she said, not bothering to look at the light box on her desk. She usually did that to revise the number of books on loan. They’d become familiar faces, it seemed.

“She’s bringing them by on Friday,” Amity said, which was true. Hunter and Luz went through piles of books by the week, always making sure to circulate out as many books as possible. 

“Yeah, okay,” she relented easily, “just–don’t bring out so many. She and the other one usually max out the amount they can take.”

“No problem,” Gus smiled pleasantly. She returned a tired smile and gestured them along so she could deal with the grouchy-looking man behind them. 

Gus had seen Luz pull out the drawers that held catalog cards rather carelessly without much consequence, so he braved a handle. And…nothing. He still had his hand, and there were no teeth, just yellowing cards that hadn’t been handled in years. Interesting.

His fingers glided over the Ma- drawer, not really knowing what he was looking for. He went through various drawers, subject, title, author, he was ready to spend the rest of the day hunched over looking for this. 

And there it was. A handbook. He assumed it was old, the year of publication started with 19. He memorized the section numbers. 793.8. The rest didn’t seem important, and from what he could tell, similar books seemed to be kept together. The 793.8 section seemed like a promising place to start.

And it was. Card tricks, sleight of hand, juggling, whatever the heck ventriloquism was. 

He sat in the corridor and started pulling out books. Introductions and summaries that sounded like what he was looking for. He wasn’t in a hurry, this was a new form of observation. Where Illusion spells needed observation and patience, human magic appeared to need study, practice, and patience. A similar enough endeavor. 

He felt himself slip back into the days of his childhood, producing wonderous illusions that lit up his dad’s face. 

He took mental notes and mimed instructions as he read them, getting a feel for movements and the flow of misdirection.

“Hey, Gus,” a voice startled him out of a section on forcing cards. He looked up to find Amity. She was wearing a weird smile.

“Hey,” he said, a little cautious. He and Amity weren’t really in the habit of talking. But it wasn’t like she was unpleasant company either.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized. “Can I sit with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, watching her sit and pick up a book from his pile. “Interested?”

Her cheeks were suddenly pink. “Uh, kinda?”

“Really?” Gus lit up, ready to fill her in on all he’d gathered. Misdirection and interest and attention and patter and—

“I’d been sort of wondering if you could, uh, teach me. Um, Illusion magic, I mean,” she said quickly. “Just a few spells, nothing too complicated.”

Oh?

He must’ve made a face because she quickly added, “If it’s no bother, obviously. I, um—”

“Why?” It was all he could think to say. “I mean, why now? Why illusions?”

“I…I miss my siblings,” she said with a small shrug. “They were both in the Illusion Track for such a long time. I guess–I never knew what all the fuss was about, I want to understand them better. Maybe feel closer to them? I don’t know. It’s silly…”

Gus smiled. He was familiar with the feeling. Wasn’t that what he was doing in the library in the first place anyway? “It’s not silly. I think it’s sweet.”

Amity returned his smile and flipped open the book in her hand. “So, uh, how do these…conjurings work… Conjurings? Why are they called that? They’re not conjuring anything.”

Gus shrugged with a laugh. “I don’t know. Humans are weird like that. They call the really good ones “masters of illusion” or “wizards” and junk like that.”

Amity chuckled. “Magic really isn’t a thing here, huh?”

“It really isn’t,” Gus said, shaking his head and returning to his place in the book.

“Need help bringing this to a table? Willow found an empty one.”

Gus looked up again. “Uh, yeah,” he smiled, realizing he wasn’t alone. Not like he’d been when he was a kid. He didn’t have to isolate himself and quietly practice because he didn’t have friends his age. He could talk to his friends, show them things he was excited about, and they would listen. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“So, how was it again that humans do magic?”

His smile grew wider. 

It was past lunch when Gus and Willow walked out of the library with a book each. Amity listened to both of them rave about the things they found out, Willow going on about landscaping Mrs. Noceda’s garden and all the techniques she could try to experiment with. Gus was excited to get home to practice and binge MewTube videos on Luz’s phone. 

This time they only almost got run over once. Gus promptly bragged about it as they stepped through the door.

Luz always fussed over them when they went out alone.

“Are you okay? Did you look both ways?”

“Yes and yes,” Gus said, sitting down next to Hunter. 

“The carriage screamed when it got close,” Amity said as Luz inspected her and Willow.

“But you’re not hurt?”

“No, we’re fine,” Amity said, squeezing her hand. That seemed to convince Luz. “By the way, the library lady is expecting your books back on Friday.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Luz said, wandering back to her seat. “We’re almost done anyway.”

“Anything new?” Willow asked, more curious than hopeful.

Hunter did a so-so gesture, but Luz just shook her head. 

“That’s too bad,” she said, not particularly disappointed. They’d gotten used to these results. 

“So,” Hunter nudged Gus, “find anything useful?”

“You bet I did,” Gus brightened. “Luz, do you have any cards?”

Using Illusions as a crutch, Gus demonstrated the basic idea behind a split deck and the pinky hold. He knew the cards sat awkwardly in his hand and he needed to adjust his grip better, but Hunter and the others could still appreciate the gist of the trick. 

Luz had lived in the Demon Realm for months, yet she seemed fascinated by the manipulation. Gus understood why. 

Magic in the Demon Realm was easy to accomplish. A bile sack you’re born with. It’s like breathing, it’s something witches are meant to do naturally.

Creating an Illusion took practice, growing a Plant took care, creating an Abomination took craftsmanship, but none of it was beyond grasp. Human magic could be fumbled, was easy to dismantle, was meant to deceive the eyes, creating a veil over what they thought they saw. There was something exciting about being fooled. 

They set to clearing the table for a late lunch, but Gus continued practicing. He was too wrapped up to eat. Hunter watched him through a mouthful of fried maduros.

He proved to be good audience practice, following Gus’s patter easily, asking him to repeat the manipulation again to see if he could catch the moment the illusion began. It was good practice. The more he repeated the trick, the easier the cards felt in his hand, the smoother the movement, the less he needed his Illusions to cover his fumbles, the more confident he grew.

As Hunter kept his eyes trained on Gus’s hands, Gus watched Hunter. He couldn’t help but smile at his best friend, grateful for his enthusiastic interest.

Emmiline liked MewTube. She never chirped much, but Gus knew. His bond with her was a silent one, of quiet knowledge and understanding. There was also the fact that both her eyes focused when a video played. 

But more than that, Emmiline loved Gus. He knew because one of her eyes would focus on him if he spoke as they watched a video.

His fingers ran idly along her split ridge and her little horns as he took sporadic notes on the video playing. His mind wandered and snagged on words that drove him down different streams of thought as his eyes grew accustomed to spotting sleights and his brain registered old information that could be overlooked.

“Emmiline,” he started absently, then faltered when the meaning of his thoughts registered, “do–do you think— Do you ever think about home?”

She turned away from the screen, tilting her head in a worried manner. One eye tracked his hands, the other watched his mouth. She did this with his Illusions, his close up magic, and his ramblings. His confidant in all matters serious and silly. She listened with an endearing attentiveness that melted Gus’s heart. That alone provided some comfort.

“Like, how do you think everyone’s doing? It can’t be good, right? Are the kids our age alone? Is Matt okay without his brother? Is he—”

His hand slacked around the pencil. Emmiline chirped curiously. 

“Well, what if…what if…” Emmiline made her way up his arm and curled her tail around his neck, a small hug, his palisman wrapping around him as best she could. “Do you think they’re okay?”

She gave him a reassuring chirp. His stomach felt funny and warm. An ache that made his leg bounce. He knew it wasn’t any good to dwell and build worst-case scenarios in his head. It gave him nightmares about his dad being…not okay. 

Sometimes it felt like time had stopped in the Demon Realm, like everything froze the moment the portal door closed. Not to stop the bad thing, but because it was too much bad. Overloaded, overwhelmed. Like reality couldn’t handle that amount of bad.

He also couldn’t handle that amount of bad.

So he tried not to think about it. Tried not to miss his dad and his friends so much. Tried not to dwell.

He was safe, in the Human Realm. Learning human magic and immersing himself in the culture he so eagerly wanted to understand. It was exciting!

But it also left a warm pit in his stomach, often confusing in its signals. 

He sighed.

“I know I’ve said that I want to go home a lot,” he said, running a gentle knuckle under her chin. “It’s almost a catchphrase at this point, but I don’t think I even want that. I just want things to be normal. I want the grass to be red and the moon not to be sucking the life out of everything and I want my dad.” His voice cracked near the end. He hated being so scared.

Emmiline’s head nudged his cheek, understanding, empathy, comfort, and solidarity rolled up into a single gesture.

Gus loved Emmiline, his little piece of home. 

It was the weekend, which meant Mrs. Noceda would tear through the house with a loud machine. Gus and Hunter were the first ones up, being so close to that thing’s roar.

“¡Buenos días!” Mrs. Noceda called cheerily as they stumbled into the kitchen. “Sorry for the noise. Saturdays are the only day I have time to get the house in order, with Luz in school and work… Hm…” She turned off the machine, looking at the boys thoughtfully. “Luz isn’t in school yet, Vee is. But she’s always so busy and anxious.”

“Do you need help with chores around the house, Mrs. Noceda?” Hunter asked with some eagerness. He was probably losing his mind with nothing to do, no orders to take, no routine to cling to. 

“Camila is fine, mijo. And no, you kids have been through a lot. I don’t want you worrying.”

“There’s six of us now, though,” Hunter insisted. “That must be overwhelming.”

Hunter was right. Mrs. Noceda seemed almost as exhausted as Hunter.

“What can we do to help?” Gus pipped in. Camila softened. 

“Well, you could start by putting on some music on the stereo. We always put on Manny’s music when we clean,” Camila mused. Manny, Mr. Noceda. “They’re over by the DVD drawer.” 

Hunter walked over, rummaging through the plastic cases. “Any preference?”

“No, no, you boys pick,” she said, hefting up a bucket onto the table and rinsing a rag. “Here, Gus. You can use this to wipe down the counters. No electronics, I’ll get them with the vacuum.”

“You got it, Camila,” Gus said with a smile. He immediately started in the living room, with its decorative tables and the figurines that lived on their surfaces. 

Something that sounded like string and horn instruments began to play from the sound boxes. A voice started singing about searching for something and a welcome party and being part of something. Gus wasn’t sure, some words were harder to pick out than others.

“Oh, Mr. Galaxy! Manny loved him!” Camila chimed, humming along with the tune. 

Hunter smiled, probably relieved that he’d done a good job. 

“What can I do to help, Camila,” he asked again, his nose scrunching at her name. Gus could tell he wanted to be more respectful. 

“Have breakfast,” Camila said, starting to fold the blankets on Gus’s mattress. “That means you, too, Gus. You can start cleaning later.”

Gus found Hunter reading through the list of breakfast foods stuck on the fridge, placed there for their benefit. Hunter was a creature of habit, Gus had come to realize, so he just started pulling out his usual picks: eggs, milk, ham, cinnamon, and bread.

“Gus, could you get the eggs?” Hunter was still reading the paper.

“Sure,” he said, cracking an egg over the frying pan. 

“And the cinnamon.”

“Yep.” He sprinkled it over the running yolk.

That’s how they moved through preparing breakfast, Gus anticipating Hunter’s request, and Hunter moving through the kitchen cleaning up after Gus.

“So,” Willow’s voice came from the dining room, “what’s for breakfast?”

Gus looked over his shoulder to smile at her. Mornings instantly became brighter when Willow was around. She had her exercising clothes on, sweat running down her temples even though it was getting cold out.

“What’d Luz call them? Sunny-Upside-Down eggs?” Gus said, poking at the white part, still kinda liquid.

“With cinnamon?” Willow perked up. 

“That’s right,” Hunter moved to serve her a plate. “Luz doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The ham toast will be done in a bit.”

“Thanks,” Willow smiled warmly, her cheeks turning pink. Gus generously said nothing, as painfully obvious as his friends were about their crushes. “Y’know, Vee was talking about going to the park today.”

“Any lead on getting back?” Hunter asked, rubbing the exhaustion from his eye.

“No, nothing like that. It’s just to get out of the house,” Willow said, taking a seat at the dining table. “You and Luz need to take a break. Get some fresh air.”

“Sounds…”

“Like a good idea,” Gus finished for him. Hunter looked between the two of them, debating in his head a moot point. They were going to the park and taking a break. End of story.

“Yeah, that,” he said with a sigh. He finished lathering the ham in syrup and brought their plates to the table. “So, how’s the human magic going, Gus?”

Gus lit up immediately. 

“Spectacular and dazzling,” he said informatively. “I have a few polished tricks, Emmiline gives me a four-point-five star rating.”

“Four-point-five?” Willow asked.

“She’s highly critical. I appreciate it.”

“I’d love to see one.” 

“Sure, yeah. Let me go get the deck.” 

When he came back with his linoid finish deck, he found Vee inspecting the remains of their cinnamon and eggs in the pan; he hadn’t heard her come down the stairs.

“Alright, Willow,” he said, spreading the cards out in front of her, “pick a card, doesn’t matter which.”

“Okay,” she said, pulling one out from the middle of the pack; he tidied the cards into a stack again.

“I want you to memorize your card and place it wherever you’d like in the deck,” Gus continued with practiced intonation. “Look, I’ll even cover my eyes.”

This was one of his more practiced tricks. It came to him with ease, which meant that it was ready for an audience that consisted of more than his palisman. 

He followed through the motions mechanically, remembering to keep his tone bright, with a final (and classic, if he did say so himself), “Is this your card?”

Willow’s eyes widened, obviously surprised. “Yeah, it is.”

Vee picked up her head, pulling away from the fridge and turning towards them, “You did it?”

“Yeah, that’s Willow’s card,” Hunter confirmed. 

“That was all you. Zero magic,” Vee said, clearly impressed.

“Human magic, baby,” Gus shot her overly confident finger guns. It was the first time he didn’t use magic as a crutch with an audience of people. Truth was, he was over the moon. Now his sleights had Vee’s seal of approval. It made all the fumbles and skids worth it.

“Gus, that’s awesome!” Willow beamed.

“How’d you do it?” Vee asked him.

Gus grinned. “I promised not to tell.”

“Can you do another?” Hunter asked

“Yep! Okay, here we go,” he fanned the cards in his hand. “Watch closely.”

Luz had started school again. Which meant a significant decline in research. Instead of consuming library books, she was under the tutelage of Vee, trying to catch up to the semester and understand everything Vee had covered for her. 

Gus thought that maybe the decrease in work would mean that Hunter would start sneaking out of the house again, but he just seemed tired. He nodded off at the table during dinner and in the middle of conversations. Willow would throw him worried glances, which made Gus worry as well. But beyond odd looks and deeper eyebags, Hunter seemed to be doing an excellent job at ignoring his obvious exhaustion. 

Willow spent her time in Mrs. Noceda’s garden, performing small miracles in what used to be a barren dirt bed. Sometimes Hunter went out to help her, sometimes it was Amity.

Vee was learning how to shift into a new face, they couldn’t have two Luzs walking around Gravesfield. It was slow progress, but she was persistent. She was keeping it a secret from Mrs. Noceda, wanting to surprise her.

Amity had already burned through all of Luz’s Good Witch Azura DVDs (which brought about slideshow nights that she and Luz put together, subjecting the rest of them to the intricacies of each convoluted plot point of both books and movies). 

Gus had been sitting through the special features, trying to understand how they’d accomplished the visual effects of one of them, when Amity brought it up again.

She peered over Vee’s game on the Swap before sitting down to watch the director’s commentary with Gus.

They did that a lot, quietly hang around each other, sometimes sharing the same space while they did different things. Even though she seemed absorbed in her game, Vee would pipe up with commentary of her own as the movie ran again. 

“Everything’s digital now. It doesn’t even look like actual magic. They’re better off using lighting footage,” Vee said, glancing up briefly.

“I think it’s cute how they try,” Gus said, leaning on the couch arm, his cheek squishing against the cushion, Emmiline curled on top of his head. 

Gus didn’t need to look over to know that Amity was vibrating with the attempt to not jump to the film’s defense. 

“Any thoughts, Amity?” Gus asked teasingly. 

“Conn—!” Vee jumped, seemingly holding her tongue. “Concho, this stupid level.”

“I think,” Amity started, overlooking Vee’s outburst, almost biting out the words, “that every film can use a healthy dose of criticism.”

Gus very much enjoyed having more friends to tease beyond Willow and Luz. 

The front door opened, Luz stepping inside looking drained. She dragged her feet over to the couch, dropping her bag beside it and collapsing over the back rest cushions. 

“Hey,” she greeted them weakly. She poked at Amity’s head. “Hi, sweet potato.”

Vee paused her game and reached over for Luz’s bag, checking excitedly for new assignments. Amity twisted around to face Luz, a big smile already on her lips. 

“Hey,” she said blushing. It managed to pull a more genuine smile out of Luz. They were cute. It was gross.

Gus turned his attention back to the screen when he saw them lean in for a kiss. 

“Room. Get one,” he said overdramatically. That got Vee’s attention, making her look up.

“Oh, jeez,” she reached over and threw a pillow over at Luz. Gus handed her another, making them giggle. 

“Where’s Willow and Hunter?” Luz mumbled through the pillow.

“Baking,” Gus supplied. “Something about a healthy distraction.”

Luz hummed, lowering the pillow to peer at the screen.

“’S that Good Witch Azura?” She asked, already knowing the answer and resting her cheek on top of Amity’s head.

“Nope, because you have two projects due,” Vee said, pulling out rubric sheets from the bag. “Come on.”

Luz pouted with a look that said can’t you do it for me? It was fascinating to see a side to Luz that hated schoolwork. Vee was learning to read Luz’s expressions, because she only said, “Mamá said I’m not allowed to do your homework anymore.”

“Fine.”

They went upstairs, Vee taking the steps two at a time and Luz trailing behind grumbling about burnout and how school is pointless.

“Hey, Gus?” Amity started as Gus got up to put the DVD away. It was no use trying to watch it with Luz home, she’d only use it as an excuse to sneak away from her homework. 

“What’s up?”

“Do you remember what I said at the library?”

“Uh, about the catalog system being overly complicated?”

“Well, that too, but no. About, um…”

Illusions.

“Oh, yeah, yeah.”

“Is it still cool? For you to teach me?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he said brightening. “We can start right away if you want. It’s not like the crystal thing can be running while Luz still has homework.”

“So, where do we start?”

“Light spells,” he said. Amity made a face and Gus could practically read her mind: baby spells. There was a reason people back home didn’t take Illusions seriously. He produced a prism out of light, a visual aid for Amity. “I know, I know. But Illusions are about optics. They’re projections, light that our eyes pick up. Therefore, we go back to baby spells.”

He saw Amity’s face shift, actively changing gears, a new perspective taking place. Like she’d just accepted a new challenge.

“Get the basics right and you’ll be creating hi-def party tricks in no time,” he finished after playing with the light spectrum for a second longer.

When it came to Illusions, Gus had a natural intuition, years of practice guiding him through the motions, but he knew it was hard. He also knew that without a good foundation, Illusions would crumble, become see-through, lose saturation. So, if he was going to teach Amity, he would demand near perfection from her. But Amity was going to meet him right where he was, ever the pupil striving towards overachievement.

Hunter was sleeping, which was frankly a miracle. Willow had insisted they let him be, but Gus knew he slept like a rock. When he was severely sleep deprived that is, which was most of the time these days. 

So Gus put it to the test, for the sake of levity. He drew up a mini-Gus, who hopped around Hunter’s head and blew raspberries at him.

“Rude,” Willow giggled. “Don’t wake him.”

Gus snorted. Mini-Gus put his hands on his hips, turning to Willow, his eyebrows dramatically raised. “Wake him?” He whisper-shouted, moving to his ear and shoving his head inside. “Wake him!?” His voice seemed to echo. Hunter didn’t stir, not even a little.

Amity’s expression had gone from amusement to awe as she watched mini-Gus balance on Hunter’s nose. 

“How do you do that?” Amity asked, her eyes lighting up as mini-Gus began to hum a Mr. Galaxy song. Hunter had clung to the bard’s music ever since that weekend. Gus knew most of them by heart at this point.

“Patience, young grasshopper,” Gus said mystically, like in the fighting movies Camila fell asleep to. “Resonance comes with practice. You’ll get there.”

“We should really let him rest,” Willow said with a giggle as mini-Gus swung around Hunter’s loose lock of hair. He needed a haircut. “Plus, Vee wanted to show us something today.”

It was something called Tarot, the human version of oracles. Amity wasn’t thrilled, but she listened politely. Gus and Willow bombarded her with questions as Hunter slept soundly on the couch, the coffee table beholding their set-up. 

Gus loved how humans created different ways to understand the world around them and retain a sense of control. Control over fate and the smallest inconvenience during the day, an explanation for senseless things. Taking comfort in knowing. Vee just said it was only human to want those things.

“How’d you learn all of this?” Willow asked her, which made her blush slightly.

She waved a bashful hand. “I, uh, have this really cool friend. I met them at camp, we haven’t talked much since Luz–and you guys–arrived back, uh, here. They’re really into all this human witchy stuff.”

“Can you do a reading?” Gus asked, resisting the urge to inspect a card.

“I’m still learning, but Masha taught me about the Past Present Future spread at camp. They called it an ‘overall vibe check’.” 

“Sounds fun,” Willow said, looking over at Amity.

“They’re harmless, right?” Amity asked.

“As far as I know,” Vee said, shuffling the cards in her hands. “Alright, let’s see.”

The first card on the table was the Six of Cups.

“Alright, cool. Cups usually revolve around friendship and community. But this one is also like nostalgia, like the joy of being a kid and feelings of togetherness. It’s a good first pull, I think it’s like the history of your friendship.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Willow said, looking between Gus and Amity. Amity smiled, linking their arms together.

The next card was The Devil.

“Oh, okay,” Vee frowned. “This is one of the important ones. It doesn’t have to be terrible, it’s like an anchor or a tether, the things that make us…vulnerable. But, uh, it’s also stuff like obsession, miscommunication, detachment. I wouldn’t say it's dangerous, just easy to spiral out of control. Slippery slopes, stuff like that. Maybe.”

“Sounds familiar,” Gus said, looking over to Hunter’s sleeping figure.

 The last card was the Three of Pentacles.

“Okay…okay, yeah,” Vee nodded to herself. “This one’s also about what keeps us on this plane. Unity, success, collaboration. Projection towards the future. So, if I got this right, everything will be alright, after some trials and tribulation.”

“So, this is the past, present, and future?” Amity asked, pointing at the respective cards.

“More or less.”

“Okay, so the Human Realm is our current trial, right? That’s our present?” Gus asked, somewhat hopeful. If this was the worst of it, it wouldn’t be that bad. And things would be okay soon enough, the next phase would be success.

“Maybe,” Vee shrugged. “It could also be further ahead. These are kinda like impressions. The Six of Cups could be closer than you might think and the Three of Pentacles, further. I couldn’t be sure.”

“So, we have looming trials?”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Amity said.

“Don’t love that,” Gus said, peering over the Devil card. It looked like one of the portraits of principals past at Hexside. The guy before Bump.

“Sounds like our luck,” Hunter grumbled from the couch, startling Vee and Amity who had their backs to him.

“But with a successful outcome,” Vee said, trying to sound optimistic.

“It’s even kinda sweet,” Willow said, picking up the Six of Cups.

“How far in the future was this again?” Gus asked.

Vee just shrugged.

“Well, it’s not like human witchcraft is a thing, right? You said there’s no magic in these cards,” Amity said, negotiating with herself how seriously to take the reading.

“It’s not the kind of magic I can eat, but the Human Realm can be spooky sometimes. I couldn’t tell you for sure.” 

“Don’t love that,” Gus said again.

“¡Mira pa'llá!” Camila said, rather astonished. She'd been digging through the basement, looking for a vacuum nozzle, when she found a box labeled “apa uni.”

“Gus! Here, take this upstairs,” she said, handing him the box. “I think I saw the nozzle bag, un segundito.”

“Whatcha got there?” Luz peered over his shoulder, making him and the box jump.

“Open it!” Camila called from downstairs.

They set the box on the living room floor. Luz sat cross-legged, popping open the flaps.

“Holy smokes,” Luz said, holding up a small rectangular box. Gus got closer, inspecting the image on the side. It was something with a close likeness to demons from the Toes, the words Monster of the Dark Lake across the picture.

“What is it?” Gus asked. It looked like a huge cassette, with a solid color casing. He’d never seen one in such great condition, undamaged by the Boiling Sea. He’d never been clear on its function, as none of the teen magazines he had scavenged ever seemed to mention them.

“It’s a VHS,” Luz said, digging through the box and stacking similar cases to the side. “It’s like an old DVD.”

The cases had titles like Modern Prometheus and The Man Wolf. 

“They’re my old monster movies,” Camila said, setting the nozzles on the couch and sitting down next to Luz. “Your dad hated them. ‘The effects are so cheap, Cami.’” Camila smiled fondly.

“Do we have a VHS player?”

“I think I saw it on the top shelf down there,” Camila mused, “but there’s no guarantee it’s working.”

“We gotta set it up.”

“You don’t have homework?”

“I’m all caught up, just some math exercises.”

“Finish Math, then we’ll see about the VHS player.”

“Ay, ma.”

“‘Ay, ma’ nada. Homework first.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Gus lived vicariously through Luz in these moments, he suspected Willow and Amity did too. He’d give anything to hear his dad tell him to fold his laundry or to not leave his shoes in the living room.

It was hard not to miss him.

As Luz got up to presumably finish her school work, Camila got Gus’s attention with a nudge. 

“Why don’t you fetch the VHS player for me? It looks like a stereo, but with a slot this size in the middle,” she said, holding up one of the plastic cases.

“Sure thing, Camila,” Gus said with the best smile he could manage.

He spotted the machine Camila was talking about easily enough, but he wasn’t good enough at juggling to spell it down unscathed. He peeked outside, finding Willow with her sun hat and gloves, working on Camila’s garden. It was really Willow’s, but she’d never call it that.

“Hey, Gus,” she smiled, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, smearing a streak of dirt across her forehead.

“Hey, Willow. Could you help me with something inside?”

“Sure thing,” she said, dusting herself off.

Willow spelled the random objects that buried the VHS player and Gus was able to spell it down without incident. He really wanted to avoid further damage to the old thing. 

“Oh, Titan, wait, help.” Gus hadn’t expected its actual weight, having grabbed it by the edge of one side and his hands dipping to the ground.

“Oh! Here,” Willow quickly scrambled for the other side, narrowly saving it. “That was close. What was this thing again?”

“A VHS player,” Gus said, leading them to the living room. “It shows what’s on those cases, like disc movies. This is a lot older apparently.”

“I think I saw one of these at the Owl House,” Amity said, walking over with her bowl of breakfast in hand. “Eda said she’d seen it in theaters over thirty years ago.”

“I don’t think my dads had met yet by then,” Willow mused.

“Yikes,” Gus said. “Eda’s ancient.”

“Bet you wouldn’t say that to her face,” Willow challenged playfully.

Gus laughed. “No, I wouldn’t. I like being an unmauled child.”

“So, we’re watching thirty year old movies?” Amity asked, peering at the cases.

“I think these are older,” Willow said, inspecting the back of one.

“Only if Luz finishes her school work,” Gus informed Amity.

“I see,” Amity smiled knowingly. “So, does the player work? It’s old, right?”

“Camila said we’d have to check. She didn’t seem too sure.”

“I’m sure I could get it working, if anything,” Amity said. “Dad messed around with a lot of engineering stuff for his Abominations. It can’t be too different from that.”

“Oh, wow, that looks like a dinosaur,” Vee said, leaning against the back of the couch. “Where are the cables?”

“What cables?”

“Y’know, the ones it needs to run electricity through it and for the image to appear on the TV.”

“It was just this.”

“Mom must’ve put it away separately, I’ll ask,” Vee said, looking around the house. The cleaning machine roared from upstairs, giving away Camila’s location. “Be right back.”

“Where’s Hunter?” Willow asked, looking around.

“Bathroom. Something about shaving his head,” Gus said.

“What?!”

“Scout haircut, apparently,” Gus shrugged.

“Someone should stop him,” Amity said, visibly resisting the urge to laugh.

“He’s probably done already,” Gus said, feeling only a little guilty over how hilarious he found Willow’s horror-stricken face.

“Hunter!” Willow rose to her feet and jogged to the bathroom. “Drop the scissors!”

Willow came back with a clean forehead and a red face. “He said he’d be right out.”

It turned out Hunter hadn’t shaved his head, it was shorter on the top than it used to be, but no bald head. They dragged him into their quest for the VHS cables, turning the rest of their late morning into what was feeling like a wild goose chase.

Camila said it should’ve been near the VHS player itself, but no such luck. Their mark was a plastic bag labeled “cables” with magic marker. There was nothing magic about it, but Gus loved the name. While fruitless on the bag front, Gus found it to be a wonderfully bountiful search, with treasures of all kinds. He’d unconsciously made a “keep” pile, much like the ones he did when he sorted through the artifacts that washed up in the Isles.

“Guys?” Luz called from upstairs. “Where is everyone?”

“Down here!” Amity called back.

“Woah, okay,” Luz ducked down to survey her friends, strewn across the cluttered basement. “What are you all doing down here?”

“Looking for the VHS cables. Ma said they were down here.”

“What, the bag that says cables?”

“Yeah.”

Luz picked up something by her foot. “Is it this?” She opened it and sneezed, a layer of dust scattering and hanging in the air. Luz wiped her nose, peeking inside the bag. “I think it’s this. It has the red-yellow-white cables.”

They had a new problem: the cables were too outdated. 

Luz and Vee were looking online to see if they could find the adapter they needed.

“Y’know, it would suck if after all this, the VHS player just didn’t work at all,” Vee said as she scrolled through the laptop.

“Don’t speak that into existence,” Luz waved her off. “How about tech places in Gravesfield?”

“Here’s the number,” Vee said.

“Not it!” Luz brought her index to the tip of her nose. Ever since they’d been back in the Human Realm, Luz had exhibited new behaviors, like being back home made her remember human customs she’d neglected in the Demon Realm. Vee narrowed her eyes at Luz.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll call.”

By the time Vee had finished the call, Hunter’d gone to pick up the adapter, and everything was connected, the sun had already set. The player turned on, seemingly functional.

“Imagine the tapes are damaged,” Luz said as she slipped the case into the machine.

“If they don’t work, it’s your fault for manifesting it,” Vee said, taking her place on the couch. 

“I’ll get Camila,” Hunter said as the tape rewound.

“This has to be some sort of miracle,” Luz said in awe, sitting next to Amity. The screen displayed the word play on a blue screen and the movie began to play. “MA! HUNTER! Hurry!”

The movie itself was fine, but Gus was intrigued with the illusions used. Camila said it was make-up and prosthetics for the monsters and light effects for the fantastical scenery. Gus was delighted to hear humans also used light to create their special effects, though it looked very different from what he could do. 

But he was settling his sights on the next hill to overcome: after he felt he’d mastered his sleights, he was going to look into monster make-up, that being closer to the creativity he was used to with his own illusions.

“Psst, Gus,” Amity whispered as the credits rolled. He looked over to find a small illusion in her hand. A slightly crude recreation of the creature from the film. It couldn’t move and the saturation was a little overdone, but it was an illusion. “I thought I’d give it a try.”

“Amity, that’s awesome! Look at this little guy, you even got the gills!”

Luz looked over, eyes widening at the figure in Amity’s hand. “You made that?”

“It’s just practice,” Amity shrugged, blushing.

“Look at you, multitracking!” Luz threw her arms around her. “I’m so proud of you!”

Amity smiled fondly. “Thanks,” she said, but she was looking at Gus.

He shot her a wink, more than happy to be able to help his friend.