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cogaytes · 2 years

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day one of @tiertice-week-2023 is posted!

Title: inkpot gods

Prompt: “goodbye”

Wordcount: 3025

Summary:

And it's not like Leto to wear his emotions so outright like this, to not hide his reactions between a neutral expression and a perfectly cultivated appearance. Something must truly be wrong.

"Leto?" he asks tentatively, "What's-"

"Tiergan called swan song this morning."

Warnings: hurt no/comfort, ambiguous ending that can be interpreted as major character death

read on ao3 or under the cut!

Prentice is awoken by a ringing that won't stop.

He rolls over in bed, groaning. Faint light streams through the gauzy curtains on the other side of the room—it's morning—but it still feels too early to be awake, let alone messaged. He doesn't even own an Imparter, given that he's still technically supposed to be locked up in Exile. But Wylie must have forgotten his while visiting, because that is definitely the sound of a hail ringing through the tiny cottage, over and over and over.

It pauses all of a sudden, and Prentice enjoys the resulting blissful silence for about three entire seconds before the annoying beeping begins again with a vengeance. He makes a mental note to have a chat with Wylie about setting proper boundaries; it wouldn't do for his son to allow anyone to harass him so incessantly if he's clearly unavailable. Burying his face in his pillow, he listens for another moment in the hopes that the caller will give up, to no avail. It seems he'll have to confront whoever this is if he wants to go back to sleep in peace.

Throwing off the covers, he stumbles to his feet and staggers into the main room. The slim silver box isn't hard to locate, what with its furious beeping whose vibrations seem to shake the entire central coffee table. He notices with a surprise Tiergan's name scratched into the top with his best friend's familiar messy scrawl—not Wylie's Imparter after all. Still, he's irritated enough by the disturbance of his sleep to snap, "What?" at the elf who fills the screen when he accepts the call before he even sees who it is.

A tinny voice at far too loud a volume for the early morning immediately sounds from the Imparter's speakers. "Tiergan, thank fuck- oh." The deep blue eyes and sharp pale features of Magnate Leto Kerlof stare back at Prentice from the tiny box. Leto's clearly in distress; his hair is rumpled and his voice slightly raspy. He curses under his breath in a language Prentice can't quite make out. "Prentice. Where's Tiergan?"

It's too hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice, even with Leto in such a state. "I don't know. Out. Why do you need to talk to him so badly at"—he checks the clock—"six in the morning?"

Leto buries his face in his hands. "Shit," is his only response, and that's a language Prentice very much understands. And it's not like Leto to wear his emotions so outright like this, to not hide his reactions between a neutral expression and a perfectly cultivated appearance. Something must truly be wrong.

"Leto?" he asks tentatively, "What's-"

"Tiergan called swan song this morning."

And Prentice is sent reeling. The shards of his mind are overwhelmed by thoughts, worries, questions. "What?" is the only thing he can say—he understands what the phrase means, of course, but that doesn't mean that he can process it at his core.

"I found a note in my office about fifteen minutes ago. I've been trying to reach him, but," he gives a dark, wry chuckle, "it seems he's left his Imparter with you."

Prentice sinks into the couch, and it's his turn to bury his face in his hands. "How- why- he didn't even say goodbye-" he chokes, and then he remembers. Remembers being roused by the sound of footsteps in his bedroom in the middle of the night. Remembers the rustle of paper on his bedside table, the way he'd called out and been met with a murmured dismissal. Remembers the press of soft lips to his forehead—no, he must have dreamed that part. But the paper, that he knows is real, and he leaves Leto's face in the sitting room and rushes back to the other room.

There.

With the top tucked under the pearly base of Cyrah's favorite lamp, a creamy envelope with his name in Tiergan's handwriting. He snatches it and returns to find Leto shouting worriedly at the Imparter.

"Prent—oh, you're back."

"He left me a letter," Prentice huffs out as he catches his breath. Without pausing for further explanation, he rips the envelope open and unfolds the piece of paper inside. He scans it quickly. If there's something that might tell him where Tiergan's gone or why he's in danger all of a sudden, he has to find it.

And oh, some of the things Tiergan's written—

Focus, Prentice. He'll think about that later. Once Tiergan is home and safe beside him. In his arms.

It's the way Tiergan signs off at the end, though, that he can't get out of his head. Goodbye. I'm sorry.

"Prentice?" He realizes Leto is trying to get his attention, and he raises his eyes to the screen. In the top corner is a tiny version of his face; he catches sight of what Leto must be seeing. Somehow in the past few minutes he's started crying without noticing. "What did he say?"

Prentice wills his mouth to start moving, begs his voice to work for fuck's sake. It takes all his concentration to keep the words coming out of his mouth without wavering. "He said he's gone to a Neverseen hideout in Austria- something about stopping a plan of theirs?" Recognition flashes in Leto's eyes, but Prentice can't for the life of him bother to figure out what that means. "He said that Wylie and I should get somewhere safe, in case he doesn't succeed. He said-" And this time he can't stop his voice from breaking. "He said he doesn't expect to get out alive."

He thinks about a world empty of Tiergan's sheepish smile, of the way the golden tones of his hair shift depending on how the sunlight catches it, of his steady devotion and his quiet laughter and the love that pouring out of him like a rushing river, fierce and unrelentless and above all else strong. And he sobs, tears flowing down his face with all the force of that river. He cries for what they're losing, and he cries for what they never got a chance to have.

The taste of salt on his tongue brings him back to himself. He realizes that Leto's been watching him shatter all over again, but he can't bring himself to care. What does it matter, anyway—what does anything matter—when Tiergan is out there somewhere and Prentice might never see him again?

But maybe they can still save him.

First, Prentice has to pull himself together. Remembering the strategies he's been utilizing ever since his release from Exile, when panic began to often overwhelm his senses until the world spun like it does now, he inhales and counts to five before slowly exhaling again. He pushes away thoughts of the elf who taught him this particular breathing exercise. But his gaze is steely, albeit a bit watery still, when he opens his eyes to meet Leto's. "Tell me everything," he orders.

And Leto talks. He tells Prentice about how Sophie had snapped, how she'd burned down a Neverseen storage facility, and how she'd left the sign of the swan behind. Explains how he'd supported her through the consequences of that decision. Self-loathing is devastatingly audible in his voice as he describes the furious argument between him and Tiergan afterwards. Tiergan had strongly disapproved, to say the least. He had feared that the Neverseen would retaliate. "And it seems he was right," Leto finishes quietly. Despite the way his voice has refused to waver over the course of the story, Prentice can tell he's barely holding it together. He wants to scream at the other elf, to yell abuse at him for daring to meet his eyes without even so much as a flinch. But he can't bear to strike at Leto like this, not while he's clearly so affected. "Between the letter he left for you and the sparse details included with his swan song, it seems the Neverseen were planning to attack you and Wylie. To make you pay for what Sophie did."

"And Tiergan went to confront them on his own," Prentice supplies. "Because he's a fucking idiot."

Leto barks a rueful laugh. "Exactly."

"So what are we waiting for? If you know where this Neverseen hideout is, we need to go. Now." We might already be too late.

"Prentice…" Prentice does not like the hesitation he senses in Leto's voice. It reeks of pity.

"Spit it out," he snaps.

And all of a sudden Leto can't meet his eyes anymore. "It might be best if I go alone. I don't think— if it went badly, he wouldn't want you to see."

Whatever merciful urge was preventing him from taking his grief out on Leto is certainly gone now, after that particular comment. "No," he hisses, "I'm hailing Wylie and Livvy, and you're going to meet us here with a leaping crystal, and we're all going together."

Leto dips his head in acquiescence, and that sympathetic expression flashes across his face again. Prentice wants to reach through the screen and tear it off his face. "Very well."

***

Prentice finds Tiergan first. The four of them spread out across the area to search, calling their loved one's name. What must have once been a magnificent stone building has now been reduced to a simple field, with large chunks of stone scattered in the grass like patches of greyed flowers. Dust hangs in the air, so thick that Prentice can barely see through it and his lungs burn with the effort of breathing. But he has to keep looking. Finally, amid the rubble he makes out the navy of a tunic he knows without thinking to be Tiergan's. It's buried under what seems like a solid ton of rock. Fingers scrabbling at the rough breaks in the brick, he moves it aside piece by tireless piece until the blond elf's face is exposed. "Darling," he breathes, and he hadn't thought through the endearment properly before he said it, but it sounds so right on his lips.

For a moment there's a terrible silence as he waits for a response.

And then Tiergan's eyes flutter open. "'Tice?" he murmurs, and it might be the most beautiful sound Prentice has ever heard. His voice is weak, though, his face far too pale. Prentice's gaze roams over his whole body, searching for bleeding he can staunch, a wound he can inspect, anything. If he knows where Tiergan is hurt, he can try to fix it, he can—

He realizes Tiergan is still waiting for an answer, so he seizes the other's hand with both his own and murmurs, "Darling, stay with me, please." And of course the words come out like he's begging, but the desperation in his voice still takes him by surprise.

"It's okay, 'Tice. I've made my peace; didn't you read my letter?" And the smile on Tiergan's face is the saddest he's ever seen it, and he would do anything to see hope in those beautiful ocean-blue eyes, but somehow no matter how hard he squeezes his love's hand, the other's expression refuses to fade.

Prentice is almost sobbing now. "I did. I loved you too, idiot. You should have said something before-"

Tiergan's eyes turn solemn. "I know, my love. I'm sorry we didn't get to make a life together."

"We still can," Prentice pleads, "Just hold on for me, darling." He yells for Livvy and hears an answering shout in response, but she's so far away.

He doesn't let himself think about what could happen if she doesn't make it here in time.

Wylie, however, is only a few hundred yards to his right, and looks up at the sound of Prentice's voice. He rushes over. "Dad?" His eyes are shining with tears.

Tiergan reaches a shaking hand to cup his face. It barely makes it halfway before faltering, so Wylie grabs it with his own and holds it against his cheek. "Son— I love you, son."

Their son—because of course he's theirs, not just Prentice's—shakes his head as if denying the scene in front of him will make it any less real. "Dad, please, I can't lose another parent, you can't-"

Prentice's heart aches at the calm resignation in Tiergan's voice as he murmurs reassurances. "I know. I'm sorry. But it was worth it to keep you safe."

"Maybe I don't want to be safe if it means you're gone!" Wylie cries.

"Wylie...I'm so proud of you, son. You're the most resilient elf I've ever met. And I hate that I have to ask this one more thing of you, but I need you to be brave one more time. Can you do that for me?"

Wylie nods once, tears streaming down his face. He's shaking. Instinctively, Prentice wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Wylie clings to him tightly. It's another second before he realizes that it's not just their son weeping at his love's words.

Because Tiergan deserved so much more than this. Because he'd spent his whole life taking care of others—of Wylie, of Cyrah, of Prentice—only to give it up before he'd even gotten a chance at happiness for himself. Because he'd worked so hard, and cared so much, and loved so deeply that he'd died for them without a second thought.

"Why do you always have to be the idiot who sacrifices himself?" he sobs, and he hates Tiergan so much right now. For not seeing how much Prentice needs him alive. For not loving himself enough to stay. For leaving them. "You fucking asshole, why did it have to be you?"

Tiergan's voice is weakening, now, and the light in his eyes has faded a little. But the conviction in his voice is firm and unyielding when he says, "I would do it again a thousand times over, my love, to make the world safe for you and Wylie. You can let me go. It's okay." He reaches for each of their hands. Out of the corner of his eye, Prentice sees Livvy sprinting towards them across the ruins, dodging chunks of stone as she goes. "Tell Leto I'm sorry for what I said. I love you both."

And then Tiergan's eyes close, and Prentice cradles him in his arms and buries his face in his love's shirt and weeps.

***

Dear Prentice,

I'm not sure how to say most of this, but it is imperative that I do say it, as it may be my very last chance.

After I leave this somewhere you'll find it when you wake, I'm to leap to a remote area in the region the humans call Austria, where Leto and I have discovered a Neverseen hideout. The communication I've intercepted from them indicates that they'll be gathering there before executing their plan to retaliate against the Swan—a massive coordinated attack to make us pay for burning down their storehouse. I intend to stop them. If all goes well I'll be back before you realize I've gone, but…there's a very real chance that I perish in the attempt. It feels the coward's route to tell you these things through a letter, without even a conversation, but I fear if I were to look you in the eyes as I say any of this I would feel the unstoppable urge to fall into your arms and never let go. I don't have the strength to leave you as you stand before me.

I have two last requests for you, in the event that I do not succeed (and if I'm entirely honest, I likely will not survive this). The first is to get yourself and Wylie to safety. I have come to terms with my likely imminent death, but I will not lose either of you. The Neverseen are angry, Prentice, and they would do anything to see the family we've built suffer in particular. I will do my part to ensure they do not win, but I ask that you be careful as well. The second—and I know this will be nearly impossible for you—is that you are not too hard on yourself when you learn of my fate. I trust that Leto will explain everything to you, and I know you will blame yourself. Do not. This was my choice, and you couldn't have stopped me even if you tried. You must stay strong, dearest. I am not worth you shattering again, and Wylie will need you in the weeks to come.

I suppose now is the part where I confess that I've been in love with you ever since we were young. I've never known how to tell you, or maybe I was just too scared. Your presence has been what gives my life meaning for so long, and I don't know what I would have done if being honest had driven you away. That's why I never agreed to be your Cognate—not because I didn't want that and so much more with you—but because I was terrified of you seeing the raw truth of me and what you meant to me all this time.

You are my world, Prentice. You, and the radiance with which you smile, and the patient warmth with which you carry yourself, and the easy bravery with which you sacrificed for a hope we could all only pray would come true. You already had so much light in your life, but you gave it up without a second thought because maybe, just maybe, there could be something more for the rest of us. I wish I had been brave like you. I wish I had been brave enough to not hold this inside for so long, to take your hand in front of everyone and say fuck the world and I love you, to risk ruining what we had for the chance at something better. I wish I had been brave enough to tell you this to your face before I was already gone.

Goodbye, Prentice. I'm sorry.

Forever your Tiergan.

#tiertice week 2023 #tiertice #tiergan alenefar #prentice endal #mine

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