#alvearegn

Trepidation found itself a home betwixt winding vines and DROOPING FLOWERS (THEIR LEAF-THICK BODIES APPEARING WATER-LOGGED RATHER THAN WILTED). There was many an invasive thought that nagged him to go-- - to simply leave this one be // TO TURN TAIL AND RUN, OR PERHAPS TRY TO DROWN SELF IN THE SMELL OF THROAT CLOGGING SMOKE LIKE THE PAST! ‘The good old times, REMEMBER’- the voice nagged at him, filled with sickness and decay. But after all, his younger self had long been put on mute-- - today was not the day he would be allowed to speak either.

THEY’VE LOVED EACH OTHER BEFORE they even knew what love was. from the puppy love of childhood friends: a living beehive and a living flame frolicking within the vast, verdant forest; holding a stick in their hands, weapon-child afraid of burning- to the nervous, tentative love between reunited friends at the back of a dumpster, shy glances and averted gazes as they sit together, eyes watching the stars above- to the wholehearted love that felt like home to them, amidst a burned out campfire and the kind gazes of the gods that looked upon them. it’s love, through and through, in all forms: eternal, unconditional, forgiving, kind.

tamasin never would’ve thought he could’ve gotten this. ( once upon a time, he was the prodigal son, weapon-child, destroyer of the galaxies to come- once upon a time they told him to discard love; that he was only the arsonist’s blaze, personified- its only intention to set the universe alight. ) tamasin had discarded love while cradling it in the same breath; listened to the words of the unwise as he kept onto hope- after all, what’s the point in anything, if you’ve lost all hope? ( history has its eyes on you! ) -and that hope had rewarded him.

...or maybe hope was here all along. blossoming with tovia; blossing with them, hand in hand. in clutched fabrics as hidden bombs went off within l’hanbrymin walls, in intertwined fingers as they stood side-by-side atop a stage, in pulled apart hands as star-crossed lovers had been separated; one the right-hand man of a dictator now gone, the other the right-hand man of a leader once was, in a body that’s held firm against him after a festival gone wrong, in the juxtaposed stance between exiled vice-president and reluctant president, in the nuzzling noses of fresh lovers behind a blazing campfire, in the moment of reprieve as they step out of the rubble, looking towards a clear, blue sky- in tamasin choosing him, over everything: over the artefacts, over the world, in tovia choosing him, too- over l’hanbrymin, over war, over hate.

it takes a long time for them to go back to the way it was ( ‘ it was never meant to be, ‘ said thrice by the people that once had hope, about the kingdom that fell three times. ), president and vice president; child of the hive and child of the flame. their promise to repair l’hanbrymin; to fix, to nurture, to protect; sworn in the drifting of a optimistic tune amidst the air now fresh ( tamasin says, if i get to rule with you, then i will. ). the artefacts once long sought after, now returned to their rightful owner, new-and-old power thrumming in his veins, and tamasin feels more alive than ever, and when his body spasms and twitches with the raw power it had long been deprived of having, upchucking inferno and fiery beasts- they turn to it as celebration, not something to be afraid of.

they get to work almost immediately. it takes years before they’ve even made a dent in the pile of administrative work and repairwork that needs to be done; create life out of nothing; turn a crater back into a bustling city. it doesn’t help matters when they relapse, too- broken children taking on a task their ancestors should’ve completed a long time ago- where tobi turns to violence to satiate the stinging pain in his chest, where tamasin turns to fire to calm the flood of despair in his mind- it takes months of pointed silence and desperate nights for them to admit they need help, takes years for them to talk about it; to get help, to recover- all this in the midst of repairing, of fixing, of creating.

they’re creating something new, within themselves. tamasin runs this through his fingers- entertains the thought of living life like this, all the time- with tobi, with peace and love and safety. he likes it. he likes it very much.

they grow older. 

the wear and tear of trauma settles in as they do- sore bodies, tense muscles and memories that bring the shock of dynamite. 

they carry on. tobi and tamasin work through this ( it’s always them against the world; against everyone else. ). they carry on. tobi works long until the sun has set, and tam works with him, quietly, by his side as he scrawls plans and notes across piles of books. they carry on- tam rallies a team; drags antiphonus into the fray; create rather than destroy, and soon enough-

-l’hanbrymin... is. a country that was meant to be. ( history will prove them wrong! ) 

a bustling city; an incredible citylife, a thriving economy, a country that loves, and cares, and protects- just like it was meant to be; just like the forefathers that came before them were supposed to do. ( they tell their stories- of course they do; of the leaders that have loved and lost: presidents, rebel leaders, the forgotten ones, the remembered ones, fathers and mothers who had came and went; whether if it had been their time, whether they had decided to leave, whether they had died, honorably or not. they tell their stories. they will not let history repeat again. )

tamasin and tobi sit on the bench that looks over l’hanbrymin, in silence. it’s a good silence that settles in his bones as he breathes in the fresh air, tousles his fiery locks as he looks upon what had once been a warzone- what had once been desolation: rubble and destruction and nothing. it feels good to have done something meaningful- to have done something with tobi, especially.

tobi laughs- hysterical, relieved, excited for what is to come. 

tamasin laughs along, and his hand finds a home in tobi’s- and tamasin finds a home in tobi. he feels warm- cheeks glowing an excited gold, circles of yellow revealing themselves across his body. 

we deserve a soft epilogue, my love, tobi says, and tamasin wants to say so many things in response; you deserve everything i have to offer: heart, soul, flesh, mind. you deserve the stars that hang in the night sky, the sun that shines so brightly in the morning, the glistening blanket of snow that drapes across grass and dirt paths and roof tiles, the morning dew that settles on leaves- i will collect them for you to see. 

we did it. 

we can rest now.

we’re free.

l’hanbrymin’s free.

tamasin snorts and rolls his eyes.

“     ...since when were ya the kinda guy to say ‘ my love ‘?      “  he says instead, but tamasin rests his head on tobi’s shoulder, folds his arms together upon his lap, and rests his gaze on the setting sun. 

JUST GIGGLES AS HE DOES so- exhales giddily as tobi just stares at him,  “    wha- what! why’re you starin’- there’s nothin’ on my face, is there?    “ he grins boyishly- before he’s almost immediately kissed ( and is there even any question as to what he does? he melts into it, gently raises his hands up to cup his cheeks; leans in and kisses back, lets brown locks tangle between his fingers. ).

WHEN HE’S WITH TOBY, HE’S just a boy. ( look into his eyes- and the sky’s the limit! ) his smile stretches from cheek to cheek as his lips are pressed to one of them, and tamasin can’t help but bark out a short laugh, crossing his arms in mock-defense. he scoffs and rolls his eyes- but that doesn’t stay for long, head turning just to look at him, smiling, teasing. ( yo, this one’s mine! )