LAN

date: early taurus, 998 a.l. location: the lunar court; lan’s private quarters. status: closed to @celestiallan.

SHE’S FURIOUS. Teeth bared, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, gone is the angel of justice, the equilibrium of the empire. Gone are rational thoughts, and in its place stands a creature of wild feelings. In Naiya the warrior awakens, and she supposes it is fitting, now that this too has become a battlefield. Frustration bubbles in her again. The coming storm has gotten to even the best of them, and even with all the power at her fingertips, this is not a fight she knows how to win.

That goddamned library. It’s as if it has been her untouchable enemy, her biggest rival, even after a thousand years has passed. And here it is again, to haunt her once more. Her, and its fateful guardian — her friend. Her wise, intellectual, levelheaded friend. Her fool of a friend.

That goddamned fool and his goddamned library.

How could Lan have been so stupid? Had he not been so reckless, so absolutely foolish — none of this would have happened. She glares, as if the intensity of her fury alone could pierce through the walls of the Mercurian’s quarters and into Lan himself. Her stride does not break when she is met by closed doors, and Naiya does not stop herself to knock before throwing the doors open and marching in. 

Her eyes meet his, and still she does not pause. Now her stride breaks, but it’s not out of hesitance. She keeps a distance between the two of them, but what difference does it make? He would know her rage either way. “Out of all people, Lan,” she snarls, her anger palpable. “How could you have been so foolish? I saw you. You, and your little human princess.”

Just as Levi saw my little human princess, and look where that got us.

It is pity, rage, concern and a warning rolled in one in her words. And she thought he would’ve heeded them even before they needed to be said.

It shouldn’t have played out like this. 

Never had Lan considered the consequences. He had underestimated it all. Usually, the Mercurian would’ve been accustomed to coming up with strategic plans - ideas to soothe out the trouble. But this time he felt like he had no answers. 

The happiness he had only tasted for a second was robbed. But rather than chaotic anger, a familiar hollowness was starting to occupy the corners of his heart. He didn’t know what to do with himself - didn’t want to face the public and their demands. The accusations laced with poisoned tongues burned like acid in his head. 

There was really only one thing he wanted, and that was to protect Yuna at all costs. Whatever mess that had struck, he would take the blame for it. Bare it all with clenched teeth. If he didn’t now, then when would he ever? It had taken eons for him to find a princess of his own heart... He wouldn’t give up so easily. Of course he wanted explanations, would demand them even. But he didn’t have the heart to pry for anything but her safety. 

Lan heard the knock, but had no willpower to allow entry to anyone. No, he felt like a carcass. He didn’t bother preventing the doors from being opened either. If he were to be exiled for treason, then he would go and do as the court wished. So long as her safety could be guaranteed, he would oblige to whatever punishment he must face. 

His eyes met Naiya’s. His expression blank. But it’s in his voice that indicated the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. 

“And what of it?” He looks away, looking at his books. A sigh escaping his lips. 

“You were in love too weren’t you?” He pauses,” Don’t you remember what it was like?” Nothing else in the universe was comparable to that feeling. 

He turned his attention back to Naiya, “It’s the first time I did anything for myself.” He grew quiet, eyes returning to the library he had spent so many countless hours organizing. Even with all the accumulated knowledge, what was the point of it when none of it could be shared. 

They walked in silence, and Yuna found herself drowning in it. She had fallen in love with Lan first in these quiet moments, tucked between conversations that spanned hours upon glorious hour as she tried to make a home for herself in Lan’s mind. She’d done it to understand him, to see the world as he did.

These quiet moments were everything to Yuna. What was more comforting than to rest in peace with the person who made your heart whole?

She answered her question as quickly as she asked it: Perhaps trusting they are hiding nothing from you. The silence was dark and bitter now, a knife held to her throat and pressed deeper with each passing second. Held for ransom, perhaps their love was better left for dead.

— oh, the thought wounded her. How could Yuna turn away from Lan, who was as much a part of herself as her kingdom was? Tsuki and the stars, they had become one and the same. It was cruel to have to choose between both. She could not bear to make Lan choose, either. So she chose another route, hoping to win everything she wanted without making any sacrifices along the way. The crown and the throne would never be hers; she had made her peace with it.

But to lose love, too? For the sake of the very same people who had so quickly forsaken her? For the sake of her father who had silenced her? (She tried not to think of Kou. She tried not to imagine the disappointment in his eyes once he learned of how willing she was to manipulate those around her, for her gain.)

When he embraced her, a deep sigh came from Yuna’s lips. This was what she’d wanted: Lan in her arms, his lips at her ear, that familiar warmth spreading throughout her body. How could she have ever thought she belonged anywhere else?

And how could he have betrayed that, by lying to her? By making a fool of her, by making a fool of the life she lived and the love she held so sacred?

She didn’t know how to answer his question — wasn’t even sure if she wanted to. Did Yuna even want to forgive him?

She must. She must, because she could not bear to lose him.

“I don’t know,” Yuna answered honestly, knowing Lan would see through any lie she could give. To win the battle, she must spin a story from half-truths and heartfelt emotion. It would be easy; the depth of emotion she had for Lan was boundless with heartbreak and adoration both.

“But even through all of this, I can’t stand to be away from you,” she whispered, meeting his eyes without masking her pain. Let it be her bait, let it draw him in until she could dig her nails in deep and make her play. She kissed him, desperately — as if the moon itself threatened to devour Lan go, as if he was never to be hers again.

When she pulled away, Yuna was breathless. Touching her forehead to his, she whispered, “I love you, Lan, even when it aches.”

All of it was true; all of it was a lie. But was there a difference anymore?

Lan was sorry but words only went so far. Perhaps she doubted him, the thought itself chipped away at his heart. He could barely tolerate the stinging sensation. He wouldn’t know what to do, where to go, how to live again if she turned her back, dismissing him. The pure hollowness haunted him. From within, Lan would decay, rotting until there was nothing left but a withering shell of living corpse. 

It terrified him. 

But in her kiss, he felt the fear dissipate into the mist. Hungrily, he kissed her as if the act itself would redeem every wrong marked in his hands. His lips pulled at hers, seeking out every delicate fragment of her soul, a low growl barely escaping his mouth as she parted. 

How the words sung like a holy confession to his soul. Love - she loved him. Loves him. In all his wretched time alive, how he had never known what one word could do to him. She spoiled a cold undeserving angel. “Always,” like silk, his barely touching the air - a sigh as he kissed her forehead once more. “I will always love you. Until my last breath.”

What death was there to fear when she had given him everything he needed? She was his satisfaction and perhaps he could gamble away his life as proof that nothing could come close to Yuna’s existence. Time and time again she showed him her splendor, her greatness and her benevolence. Looking at her visage, he was reminded of only the piercing brilliance of a starlight princess, one who didn’t need a throne or powers to command the attention of any she chose. 

“Do you know,” he murmurs, the confession barely falling from the pink of his flesh, “how I would destroy myself for your sake.” Another kiss, a carnivorous desire expanding from the tips of his fingertips. He pulled away once more. The sweet aroma of her skin enticed him like a lovesick fool. His hands caressed the rosiness of her cheeks, darkened eyes flickering to look at hers again. “I am yours to do as you please.” For the Tsuki Princess he would kneel before her, prostrating himself at her feet for every second of overwhelmingly love that consumed him. 

Gently, his hands held her wrists against the wall as he leaned in to her again, teasing her lips as he trailed down kisses from the corner of her mouth.He traveled downward, firmly pressing against her neck as he inhaled her fragrance. Her warmth was all he needed to keep the cold at bay. 

“I want you.” 

He hadn’t even pondered the thought, the words slipping out without it’s usual sense of control. He released his mouth from the nape of her neck, fingers loosening from where they held them. This time he pulled her closer to him at the waist. One hand supported her while the other hand gracing upward, a singular index finger making it’s way up her spine. With his eyes alone he could undress her. 

“Do you want to visit my sanctuary again? There will be no disturbances,” the offer softly murmured as if he were afraid of her rejection. 

Under no other circumstances would Lan have allowed another soul within his archives but for Yuna, she was the exception. 

date: late aries, 998 a.l. location: the crystal palace. status: closed to @celestiallan.

THIS IS HOW THE UNIVERSE will end: in blood, in carnage, in a war waged in the name of love and betrayal.

Naiya has seen it once, before she understood what love means, before she truly sees what horror it can bring. They have fought that war, once, and they have won. But at what cost? They have lost too, each and every one of them. 

She did not wage that war, a thousand years ago, when she lost and a gaping hole opened in her chest. They have just survived the war, and even then, in the darkest of moments, Naiya knows that they cannot afford another one. And so she stays. She stands with her princess in the light, as a good soldier is meant to do. She stands by the Moon Princess’ side, an extension of her will.

But the same cannot be said about the others — about the ones long lost to the darkness.

They have returned, and with them, they brought terror. It is spreading through the veins, crackling underneath their fingertips, a thousand years of dread that have been waiting to be unleashed.

And it is here at last. The beginning of the end.

Perhaps Magnus is right. Or perhaps he is wrong. This, Naiya cannot say. She has her reservations of him, her eyes narrowed upon his return to the Lunar Court after many years of solitude. But she cannot deny that her judgments about him are clouded with feelings, and she finds she cannot trust herself to seek him out and bring whatever justice awaits him — whether it is the good, or the bad.

So she seeks the next best thing.

She finds him a length away from her, and she calls for him. “Lan.”

His name, — just his name — and yet, it is so much more than that. Naiya’s eyes searches his, and she knows there is an understanding between the both of them. Something is to be done, but it is not in their hands to decide. They are merely extensions of their princess’ will.

She nods at her companion, her strides carrying her to his side. “Lan,” she repeats now, her voice low — only for him to hear. “We cannot stay. The empire needs its leader. We need Selene.” There is an urgency in her voice, and she knows he will understand.

They must depart at once.

The crawling spine chilling feeling of disgust, disappointment and poisonous wrath seemed to toil within Lan’s mind. It took his will power not to snarl, to flare nostrils - piercing the air with his icy words to fix what’s been broken. 

All their lives, every single one of them bound toward the duty of peace. But when did it matter when the mortals weren’t grateful? When they were quick to accuse, point fingers of a court that had long supported their existence. The Mercurian was growing tired, barely capable of swallowing the same patience that he carried on for the last eon. All it had took was a singular spark, and it had set him aflame. Lan knew that he was unraveling painfully slowly. It was as if he took his first breath, as if he had tasted snow upon his lips for the first time - he changed. 

Love and war always playing against their histories, scratching at each piece of parchment like a ravenous creature. 

The glory era of prosperity should have remained. All should have been well; this minuscule point of time had to be protected. But like glass, it was shattering into a thousand particles. How was Lan suppose to fix it again and again when it refused to heal? He clenched his jaw, the lack of life in his eyes flickered back and forth with signs of discontentment. 

But he remembers again. He had self preservation to consider. The spit in his throat is swallowed, the cruelty losing it’s sheen as he recognizes a familiar voice in calling. Each note of her vocal cords reminded him of rationale understanding which was a much needed relief. His fingers uncurled, neck swiveling to turn toward her sound. 

Naiya. 

He understands immediately. It has always been them two, side by side, voicing their reasons until they were heard and taken. Her companionship was what the Siren speaker needed, the cloudy fog dispersing from his mind as he remembers the duties that both must fulfill. 

“I know,” his voice sharper than usual only softening at the last syllable. “Selene needs to regain confidence at court. She has no choice.” We have no choice. His words only clear enough for her ears alone. “We need to hurry.” It wasn’t a suggestion but an indisputable demand. 

DATE: Late Aries, 998 A.L. LOCATION: Tsuki Palace STATUS: closed for @celestiallan

The world burns, and Yuna burns with it. She lets the flames lick at her skin as the tension increases, cherishing the heat. It will remind her of this moment. This fury. This power that comes not from her father or any crown, but herself.

Her spirit risen and her fire reclaimed, she will not stand for this. The man she loves sidestepping her questions, offering sweet nothings as if sugar will satisfy her hunger. The man she has no business trusting delivering the answers she craves as if it will win her favor. Her kingdom turning away from her and demanding that she be less than who she is. Her father’s advisors meeting her eyes as they say – boldly, arrogantly, almost smugly – that she is forbidden from ever speaking her mind again.

She is finished. And at this moment, she is grateful that it is Kou who will sit atop the throne. The spotlight she once desired now holds him back, to linger inside the palace. Let him be King. Let Kou rule Tsuki with the sun in his eyes and peculiar magic in his hand.

Once, Yuna thought she was only an ornament to decorate his crown. Now, she understands the gift she has been granted – this freedom to explore the shadows.

The halls of the Tsuki palace are busier than usual, but Lan’s beauty is unmistakable, especially in a crowd. When she approaches, she is careful to dampen her spirit. Elegantly, demurely, Yuna smiles. “How nice to see you.” It’s a delight to forget familiarity in public; as if she feels no betrayal and that it does not make her ache to see him.

How she loves him, even now. Even when her home is a mess and he stands at the heart of it – how she longs to be his, and his alone.

“Would you walk with me, Lan? I’m in desperate need for a long walk and pleasant company.”

The foreboding chaos that had occurred only riled up the cold collected anger of the Mercury Angel. Times like these called for immediate control, dissipation of the public’s fear and outcry. And yet, Lan only managed to clench his jaw and swallow his spit - his tongue quieting those who were prodding stakes at him as if was their fault a prophecy was foretelling such a future. 

But regardless of the gossip that spiraled forth around the halls - there was only one persons opinion that concerned him. The memory of his response burned like a candle to his forehead. His own refusal had left him bitter. The turmoil of obeying his responsibilities rather than confessing the truth to the princess he loves was like driving a knife to his soul. 

How frustrating this all was - how he wished to bury himself back within his archives, locked away undisturbed. And yet here he was, maintaining the little control he could over the rampage of doubt. Truly, perhaps none of this would have occurred if Selene was capable of abandoning the thing she needed to - that awful wretched sister of hers. The tides would have been more favorable, the longevity of a prosperous kingdom secured. And yet she had chosen otherwise and everyone else would pay for the choice. Lan included, and he seethed, gritting his teeth as he worked his magic on the mortals who dared question the angels loyalties. 

But it was only the Tsuki Princess’s presence where he was able to quell the thunderous storm in his ears. The softness of her voice - one that he knew came with an ache of something more than just longing. Her voice, snapped him back into his composure, wrath subduing as the fog cleared from his eyes. The raven haired man turned to meet her gaze, her appearance shining like a beacon before his eyes. He remembered to breathe again. “As it is my pleasure, your highness,” he murmured in response. The longer his gaze lingered, the more he hungered to call her toward him properly - titles aside, places aside, just Yuna. 

“Yes,” he responds, “your highness,” the protocol being one incessant barrier after another. How Lan longed to claim her his and his alone. But of course, the one thing his heart and soul sought out for was forbidden. It was as if fate mocked him, gifted with eternal life came hand in hand with eternal misery. It had been easier to be numb but he was slowly forgetting the painstaking procedures of hardening his heart. 

He beckoned her, weaving through the corridors toward the most secluded hallways he memorized. Silence remained as to avoid suspicions. His mind recalled the cordial tone of her greeting, from an exterior it could be presumed as kind. But he knew Yuna better than that, understood the vocal strains in her voice enough to know her displeasure. When Lan had fallen in love he had spent his time adoring her, every facet of her existence - flaws and all.  His patience was wearing thin but soon all the other mortals and distractions were out of sight and out of mind. 

And in a heartbeat, Lan was undone. 

His arms held her form in the shadows, relishing in the heat of her embrace and the grief of his own mistakes. “I’m sorry,” the sound of his voice a whisper made only for her ears. He stepped back, hands held, pupils intently met hers. “What shall I do to earn your forgiveness?”

Once, she dreamed of ruling a kingdom. Of guiding her people to prosperity and peace and a greatness they had never seen before. She had dreamed of a life larger than herself, larger than the galaxy. A legacy to fulfill her, a legacy to outlast the stars.

And then it had shattered to pieces, and Yuna fell to the ground deeply wounded and, above all, lost. The sun fell from the sky, the horizon blurred, and the new day promised only endless and empty aching.

Slowly, Yuna had forged hope for herself again. Slowly, she had scavenged the ruins for something that resembled a future. Perhaps there was no greater legacy than this: to love and be loved, wholly. To have a light shined on every hidden part of you, every shame and every wound, and still be accepted, embraced, wanted. Lan had given that to her, and for it she was devoted to him, completely. And she longed to give it to him in return.

But how could she, when he disappeared to the stars and lived on the moon? When each night reminded her that there were secrets he didn’t tell her, a history he could never share with her. For all the knowledge he imparted unto her, Yuna would never be able to close her eyes and picture it. She only had this little piece of him: the present, this single moment, a shooting star that came and went in a blink.

But Yuna, greedy as ever, wanted more. Oh, she wanted everything.

“I am no genius,” she mumbled against his lips (how silly and lovesick she was, unable to separate herself from him even in speech – the gentle untangling that would become the end of her). Genius spoke for itself, was its best advocate; and Yuna had become voiceless over the years. Her genius was dusty and unpolished, forsaken. She was no genius. She was forgotten.

But Lan never failed to put his faith in her, to remind her that before she was a princess, she was a force to be reckoned with. He looked at her now with a question in his eyes. For the duration of their relationship, he had believed in her when no one did. Now, he was asking her to do the same; she could feel it deep in her bones as she met his searching gaze with her own definitive one: I will never be against you; I will always be for you.

“Your truth is all I want,” she answered strongly, each word meant to hammer away at the doubt she sensed in him. “You must know, by now, that I will always believe in you. There is no one I trust more.”

She put a hand against his chest, as if to reach inside and hold his heart in her palm. “Don’t worry about protecting me.” Even though I know you will – just as I will always protect you. “Don’t worry about protecting us. We are more than confidantes, more than lovers – we’re soulmates.”

Interrupted by a kiss, Yuna closed her eyes and felt the floodgates open. Her love for him, her resentment towards her father, her guilt towards her brother, her abandonment by her own kingdom – emotions so often suppressed blending together, overwhelming and still, empowering. 

She was Yuna Tsuki, imperial princess of the Tsuki kingdom. She had been promised a throne, and when they had taken it from her, she had conquered the heart of a celestial instead. There was no world unavailable to her.

Her eyes were aflame when she opened them, pulling away from Lan’s lips to announce: “And if the world tries to tear you away from me, I will tear it apart first.”

He would give her everything. 

But he couldn’t this time. He couldn’t afford to tell of the things that would break the world that she knew. While Lan believed in her capabilities, this was a problem that was bigger than even he knew how to solve. He couldn’t burden her with it, worry her and the people she loyally governed. 

But she was temptation and sin, deliciously presented underneath her crown and jewels - lovelier then all the roses the bloomed. How he wanted to defy every rationale and speak it upon his tongue. His jaw clenched, the tearing of his heart pulling with each lingering look of hers. 

Beautiful Yuna and her desires. How dare the universe create such a creature of radiance and goodness for someone like him. How unbearably painful it was now to turn her away. 

“My genius, you are mine in every way,” he held her now, arms holding her in his, “you may not know it but I will tell you that time and time again.” He closed his eyes, wishing that he could live in this moment and this moment alone. While all others turned their heads away from the Imperial Princess, never did Lan. He would always observe her, listen to her - understand her and revel at her capabilities. 

And how cruel it was for her to be mortal. Or perhaps the punishment of eternity was Lan’s prison for the time remaining. How would he cope if all was lost? He knew grief but he never knew it with a parting taste of his lips. The agony would crush him like a boulder. 

When he gently pulled away, eyes meeting hers, he could barely resist. Anything and everything, I would give you whatever you demanded - but not this. A silent plea unspoken. Those brilliant eyes of hers, always able to coax the warmth he had believed he was incapable of - drawn out by her softness and her adoration. “I know,” a whisper, a fragile pull at drying to maintain his defense. 

“I know,” another echo from his lips. “Perhaps even the wisest of gods are fools too,” he confessed. “If it meant my life over yours, you know what I would choose.” He kissed her again, lips taking everything of hers in. He would never tire of her, never abandon her like the way his creator did him. 

He brought the palms of his hands to each side of her face, thumbs brushing against her cheeks as he looked through the windows of her soul. “There’s only one thing I could tell you. I beg you, Yuna,” he murmured, the sound of her name sounding divine. “It’s all you’ll need to know, always and forever. It’s the only thing that matters.” In those dark eyes of his, he was kneeling before her, asking her to spare him of the task to tell her the truth she wished for. She only needed his truth - the only continuum that would never change in every equation given. 

His lips met hers again, craving for every sensation she reciprocated. The distance was closed, the comfort of that shared space giving him the Mercury Angel time to murmur words unspoken for centuries. 

“I love you.”

Ah how glorious that felt. “And that’s all you need to know, I love you, I love you,” unspoken apologies weaved softly into each syllable. His lips grazed from her neck, finding its way back to her lips once more. 

Against the rosiness of her lips, one last confession. 

Devastation. Lan says the word so effortlessly, but it slices into Magnus like a knife between ribs. He bleeds sadness as visions of ruin swirl behind his eyes. Undeserving cities reduced to rubble. Blood streaming through the shallows of cobblestones. Kovan babies’ shrieks as soldiers tear them from their mothers’ desperate arms. Decay, its unmistakable stench flooded through every corner of Nehelenia’s impenetrable fortress of bone. One neck blackened, a second severed, and a third crushed. Breath stolen. Life snuffed out. Devastation of the highest degree.

He knows, as his gaze bores into the distant Earth, that these visions are not of the danger to come. He knows they are not visions at all, but memories, painful echoes of their galaxy’s bleakest hour. That those horrors are on the horizon once more is almost too much for Magnus’ tender heart to bear; the weight of Lan’s hand resting delicately on his shoulder is of minimal comfort.

“What I must,” is his solemn reply. Minutes have passed, or perhaps only seconds. He can’t be certain, not with this distracting anguish festering inside of him. Not with Earth, in its striking cerulean beauty, within such close proximity. So many centuries of nothing have elapsed since he last stood there, fooling himself into the belief that his advisement was righteous. Masquerading. Concealing the truth from himself and the mortals alike: that he is a harbinger of the very devastation Lan speaks of now.

A sigh, teeming with exhaustion, and then: “That I stand among you now should be proof enough of that.”

It isn’t hard to envision it all - Lan could see it in his minds eyes. But unlike the other times, he realized, he felt more obligation. This time, instead of counting the people, there was only one life he had to protect - to save. Everything he would do for her alone just so that he could be content ... it was all for her and only her. But Lan hated not knowing, not guaranteeing the outcomes of the future. What was his knowledge for if it was of no use? 

“What you must,” Lan echoed the sentiments. What he must too. Earth was the one sacred land in all the universe that needed to continue forth. The only planet of all the other desolate ones that had learned to grow, cultivating beauty among the chaos. For every terrible flawed creature, there was always a diamond in the rough hidden beneath. 

“Then that is all I need,” Lan murmured. A partial truth - never the full story. He could never dare to utter it on his tongue the truths he kept from everyone else. A guarded secret that was shut with a key thrown into the abyss. But he knew, some day, everything would be found and perhaps a consequence shall await. But nothing mattered now that he knew of happiness.  

I think you are:

I think you are:

I think you are:

Cedric’s mouth twists pleasantly. Lan.

Perhaps the Mercurian would balk at the term, but Cedric has always considered him a friend. They are disparate, contrasting creatures - one molded from the heart, another from the mind - but all the same, they are the mask Selene dons before her empire. Cedric is the flourish of gold; Lan a silver tongue. It is their unique burden to bear - this gift for masquerading.  

“No, no problem at all,” he says, and motions for the adviser to join him. “Just a shame, for you. I’m always of the opinion you’d benefit from less work, and more merriment.”

Of course, the irony isn’t lost on him. Of all the angels, he should be the one standing in the storm’s eye, gilded and invincible. This is his domain; and yet, he has rejected it tonight, coldly and without decorum. 

“I’ve danced plenty,” Cedric murmurs. Then, abruptly, smiles.

In a moment of whimsy, he takes Lan delicately by the wrist, and pulls him in, as if they are to waltz. He has played like this plenty with Ysra - but of course, Lan is a different beast. For all the time they spend together, they do not touch. Nevertheless, Cedric finds himself - to his own mild surprise - in an uplifted mood. His political companion, his friend - there is a comfort to being coy with someone who could never hurt him.

“How about you, Lan?” Cedric purrs. He tilts his head. “Wouldn’t you like to dance?”

A chore. 

That was what this event felt like, in all its dripping expenses and useless frills. And what made it more unbearable with the incessant indulgence of Cedric’s suffocating magnetism. His jaw tensed, shutting down as he reminded himself that an extra millennium of patience was needed to stifle the irritation. Dark eyes seem to be the only moving thing in his silhouette, never a hair out of place. The narrowing of his brows commence the moment the other Angel remembers to use his honeyed voice. 

“And that has always been an opinion, never a fact.” He was curt, enunciating each syllable as if it would would melt away the bubbling annoyance. But he blinks, a shift - there’s been a change. “You’re not yourself tonight,” the coldness still frostily chilling the words. But the comment was made as an observation, not an intentional jab.

“I know. I have eyes if you’ve forgotten,” he remarks - barbed and prickly.

But even Lan hadn’t been able to predict the outcome of Cedric’s maneuver. He was displeased, far from amused - the frustration matching only a thin straight line of his mouth. There is no entertainment nor thrill from the politician; he had his eyes only set on one woman who would twirl in his arms. No more and no less - his heart was incapable of holding anything else. With a sharp yank, he gripped the wrist of the other, trapping him from playing any more games. It is only the two of them, hidden from the assembly of affluent mortals. Nothing shall disturb. He examines Cedric’s eyes, accessing what he could spy peaking from beneath the murky irises. For all the time that Lan had known Cedric, there was always one thing he could always trust: his emotional turbulence. 

He mutters, “You’re hurting yourself.” If he listened closely enough, he could catch the subtlest dulcet. There would never be a confession upon Lan’s lips. But buried deep beneath, there was one singular strand of unexplained fondness, curled with thorns of envy. Cedric, the affectionate, the passionate, the one who could unlock all facets of his feelings. 

But never Lan. 

Not until recently.  

And then he let go of his wrist, hands returning to his own side. They were back in equilibrium, the distance comfortable again. 

The tension in his belly gradually uncoils, a viper loosening its death grip on him. Lan is the same color, a different shade, but he must remember that he is, too. They are made of the same stardust, supernovas stitched together in the shape of man, and to lose sight of that is immeasurably foolish. To pretend they are anything but identical in nature is, too. He cannot, in good conscience, keep Lan at arm’s length like he does Cedric or Ilo, blinding in their rage and radiance.

And yet he does. He subjects him to this reticence, even as his unease wanes, because somewhere in all his centuries of solitude, he forgot how to be warm.

“Great change, indeed,” Magnus says, head dipping forward in solemn agreement. His gaze fixates on nothing, dark eyes distant and glassy, composure impeccable. “It is not wholly inevitable, though. We—nine of us, among the stars—must seek the edge of light. Then, hope can return. But—” His words are an echo of the prophecy, a fragment of the future that Lan must already know. His archive is a vast treasure trove, this vision only its latest addition. He does not need Magnus to recite it. 

Still, he believes it bears repeating again, this time with greater emphasis: “Nine of us.”

Lan was never accustomed to familial warmth or even the sheer concept of it. Though, perhaps he had a closer look on the definition ever since had started his private rendez-vous. With Magnus, there was an unspoken mutuality that one could say they shared. Public acknowledgement wasn’t necessary for the silent Angels. All it took was a brief nod and a glance and more than enough was said between each subtle gesture. 

 Lan observed him again, the reticence of his exterior perhaps stirring something deeper from within. It was a reflection that Lan knew well, sentiments unspoken that made him ponder of his own choices. He took looked back at the centuries gone past. A time that never touched holy things like them. 

“There’s more than just change,” Lan murmured. The Mercurian stood next to him. Perhaps it was uncharacteristic - almost unfathomable and entirely absurd to make sense of what happened next. But nevertheless, the siren speaker learned that he too was capable of sharing even the most small lights of flickering comfort. His arm rests on the other’s shoulder as he points outward from the moon, index finger directed at the Earth. “imagine it, the devastation of the tides, the rise and fall of the ground.” his own voice hollows out again. In his head he could already see the chaos, the smell of burning - the shadows of death. How hopelessly terrible, misery thriving in it’s anguish - a pain that would devour all. 

“And there’s only nine of us to piece it together. As if we were made to be the pins that kept the breaking seams in place.” He removes his arm now, eyes gazing into Magnus. 

Seconds tick by before he turns to face Lan, but in them is an eternity of hesitance. Forced into a space far too small to hold it. Smothered, like he is. Forever is claustrophobic, as is his reluctance to engage with the assembly of celestials that call Selene’s bedrock home, but he is learning. Adapting. Growing more accustomed to this way of life with each passing night, though remnants of his apprehension still remain. Lan is different, but only slightly so: the same color as the rest, but not quite the same shade. His presence still, to some degree, instills Magnus with a sense of unease.

Distantly, he wonders if that feeling is, instead, a consequence of the dilemma they are in. Of the disaster they are fated for. He suspects that his resistance to his siblings is misplaced entirely, but he is not yet comfortable thawing himself for their sake, and so he and Lan stand at opposite precipices of an icy canyon, kept separate by the stiffness in his voice and limbs. Magnus is quiet, polite. Soft-spoken and brooding, his gaze smolders with some unknowable angst; it flares when Lan questions him about the future, as if he is anything more than its mouthpiece.

He wishes that he could tell him the truth: that he knows little more than the rest of them. That he spends his hours waiting, praying to nothing, for another vision, this time disclosing an ancient secret that would save the empire.

Instead, he bows his head in deference, contemplation overtaking him. If he cannot tell Lan the whole truth, he will tell him a partial one. But which part to tell? “It is a bleak one,” he says finally, earnest but safe in his ambiguity. “I cannot say that I look forward to watching it come to fruition.”

The calmness of his demeanor was expected, the same familiar tendencies of his soft spoken nature unveiled like clockwork ticking patiently. Lan remains remote, knowing the boundaries that they both have always maintained. And yet it was those very lines that resulted in the camaraderie. Was it too much to call such a relationship? Well, it wasn’t like Lan knew much better of what to call their ties. 

He thinks again, wondering if it were too callous to have requested for a clearer vision. There were thousands of possibilities weren’t there? But perhaps this was one of the fixed devices in life that would be inevitable. Perhaps it had been too bold to have requested for answers - knowing that the talent he had been given was more than anything he could recklessly enjoy. And for that, Lan composes himself again, restraining the what ifs that whisper in his ear. 

Lan nods, acknowledging what information Magnus could provide. “So it continues, this darkness that we’ve known. But only, it’ll trickle into the rest of this world,” he murmured. There was no relief in confirming the expectant but nor was the weight of the burdens any heavier. It was as it should’ve always been. 

♇ TIME & PLACE: late Aries, 998 A.L., the Lunar Court ♇ STATUS: restricted to celestials allied with the Silver Millennium

Two months Magnus has spent calling the moon home. Two endless months he has spent shackled to Selene, a reluctant advisor removed from his post to guide an empress that he still, centuries later, will not kneel to. He misses outer space desperately; it is desolate, a yawning valley of speckled nothing, but it is the nothing that he is bound to protect. To spend this long away from it feels blasphemous. He is filled with with the dull ache of longing, a sadness that he knows will not fade until silence absorbs him once more, but he cannot leave. Not on his own terms, not until Selene confers with Nehelenia. Such is the nature of the arrangement they have agreed upon: he stays here—a phantom indulging in the Lunar Court’s luxuries, a memory from a millennia ago now embedded in its tomblike halls—until Kova’s savage queen is made aware of the coming Armageddon. Only then will Magnus be free to retreat to his nothing.

He considers this as he stares into space’s vast darkness, gaze intent on the distant pinprick of tawny light that is Pluto. Two months Magnus has spent out of his self-imposed exile and in his siblings’ orbit, but they remain strangers to each other. The dance they twirl around him is a complicated one, rife with palpable apprehension and sideways glances. Is it fear that makes them hesitate? Of what? Surely, they must know by now that he is not in control of his prophecies; he is merely the vessel from which they flow, a fountainhead of unwelcome truths wrenched from some unspeakable place in the galaxy that neither he nor they can traverse. Or perhaps a millennia is just too long. Perhaps his chance to stand among them is forever lost, squandered on years of grief instead. Whatever the reason, he is grateful for quiet moments like this one: there is no presumption of civility, no pretense of familiarity to uphold. He can simply be, unhindered by expectation.

That is, until footsteps approach from somewhere behind him, and the spell of solitude is broken. His shoulders tense with unease, voice wooden as it leaks out of his mouth in a whisper: “I thought I was alone.”

Loneliness - the essence of solidarity shared between the forsaken, a quiet stillness that rarely revealed it’s tormented face. A ghost weight chained gods like Lan, like Magnus at the ankles, invisible but never gone. Lan never forgot the mutual agreements, the nods - a figure who would suffice as the definition of a ‘friend’, a proper one with a history that spanned far into the galaxies. Their pasts were colored in the same isolation. 

But where Lan had found a taste of freedom, perhaps Magnus had been left behind. the Mercury Angel would never speak of his new found discoveries. The experiences in itself were too taboo for the tongue. But he would always respect the other, supply his company so that the solitude of one’s abandoned existence would be forgotten even for awhile. The gift that Magnus shared was one that Lan trusted - a curse perhaps just like his. How terrifying the future and knowledge could be, causing waves of chaos far greater than any sort of bloodshed. And perhaps it was their purposes to act as vessels for the greater good that made each and every choice more consequential than the last. But even these things grew wearisome. How much longer must they guard the gates of humanity? 

“You were. But up until the last minute, I decided otherwise,” Lan murmured, voice matching the stillness of the others. But unlike his usual interaction with the other Celestials, there was a softness at the edge of his syllables. “What have you made out of the ... future?” The last word tentatively forced from his lips. Lan wanted to understand. And he was willing to shoulder the responsibilities, as he always did. 

DATE: Late Aries, 998 A.L. / Evening of the Princesses’ Ball

LOCATION: The Crystal Palace, Tsuki

STATUS: Open

Away from the din of celebration, the balcony air carries tendrils of lingering perfumes. Notes of imported jasmine and peach, magnolia and lemongrass; they have rubbed themselves into the atmosphere, like ghosts to the evening wind, and mingle strangely with the scent of receding snow. Spring is slowly rising. Life will begin, finally, to lift itself once more from the crevices of a hibernating world - something Cedric finds he’s looking forward to.

Unsurprisingly, he prefers the warmer season. He comes from molten sulfur and sun, from a world of hissing heat and brilliance. Cold settles uncomfortably about him - and this winter in particular is heavier and longer-lasting than what Tsuki expects each year. It feels distinctly unpleasant. 

No. Hungry. 

The sucking chill nips at Cedric like a mouth, and the sensation unsettles him. He’s felt awry since Magnus’s arrival, since Selene and Endymion left for Kova, since the Silver Army’s deployment to the borders. Perhaps, it is for this reason he has slipped away from the ball. There were, all at once, too many hands on his body, too many mouths against his ear, too many sets of pretty eyes exhausting him of grace.

The mortals will never not adore him. He has made it so: convinced them he is a cornucopia of elegant excess, that he is made of nothing but pearls and starlight.

But tonight, Cedric feels ransacked. He is thinking about a prophet’s mouth, whispering chaos; and of Ysra’s, the angry twist of it as she bit down on his neck earlier; and of Ilo’s, bared tonight in dizzy, sweet violence - but not for him. For her. The dark queen; the pale vipress; the mortal Queen of Paol.

Something shifts behind Cedric. Footsteps; an exhale; the sound of crinkling fabric.

“You’re missing the dance,” he offers quietly. It is a greeting, and a curt farewell.

Leave me be.

In all it’s splendor, the glitz and the glamour merely acted as distractions above the seeded problems that were threatening to seep outward with each passing day. The fragrances and decor were meant to stun but a god like this one was never so easily entertained - nor amused by the trifles of mortal embellishments. Perhaps the view point wouldn’t have been so cynical if it weren’t for the fact that all of this commotion was ruining what peace Lan could’ve enjoyed. 

Frustration was an understatement. 

Down to the last second, it all depended on the right decisions and perhaps the wrong ones were made which led to these consequences. And it was times like these that made Lan reconsider his career choices - more or less wasn’t he just a slave to a regime? Well, perhaps that was a bit too far fetched but regardless, the mercury angel was displeased. The one thing ever wanted, ever desired dangled in front of him like temptation - sinful and untouchable in the daylight. And it conflicted within, brewing up a storm that swirled like violent ocean seas. Never was Lan emotionally unstable; never had he learned such things. But then he did. As much as he devoured, he was incapable of regurgitating it out, discarding it - all of it would be forever embedded in his colossal memory. 

But despite the turmoil, he had always had a way of concealing his emotions. He shut them away like a lock, burring the key. His face remained as static as the portraits that were hung in the grand halls. He knew that this event was meant to impress: one where those deemed important enough were to present a little stage play- a game if anything. Ignorance and false confirmation of all sweet things that mortals adored - naive happiness. 

Lan would have never chosen to participate if it weren’t for the presence of a particular person. 

And well, it certainly wasn’t because of the Venusian. 

While he originally had no intent of speaking with the Celestial, it seemed like fate intended otherwise. From the way he shifted and carried himself, the behavior was almost uncharacteristic for the famous God of warmth and love. Being in his company was one that easily irritated Lan. Cedric’s demeanor was like honyed tar, suffocating and too saccharine for the functioning rationale. But tonight it was different; there was no flamboyance (or so it seemed) nor the excessive smiles that he wore like his extravagant clothes. And well, for once, Lan appreciated the look more than usual. 

“Is that a problem?” Lan remarked, tone flat and cold - but less aggressive than it’s usual icy touch. He was curious, hungering for the knowledge of whatever nonsense was occurring. And who else would be the better informant of such irrelevant things? 

Lan was selfish - in need of amusement one way or another. It kept him awake, erased the issues that were burning at the back of his mind. 

“Shouldn’t you be the one dancing?”