All sounds except the Nomad’s machinery working overtime on her last voyage and David’s unfortunately heavy breathing ceased for an eternally long moment, Hal’s face journeying between every emotion he possessed. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and his attempt to stifle his sniffles failed.

He probably wouldn’t have admitted it at the beginning, but something David had always loved about Hal was his ability to keep crying. No matter the hardships he faced, the traumas, the evils and cruelties he bore witness too, he didn’t run out of tears. His compassion was a well that ran deep, and those tears were just a result of it overflowing.

“Dave...of, of course,” his expression betrayed some amusement past the waterworks, “Do you want me to list you as my brother, or-”

“You know exactly what it’s going to say, Hal.”

They both laughed now, such different sounds than it was just a year ago even. David had been sitting on the edge of the bed, and Hal had been across the room, but that distance closed as Hal kneeled on the floor, placing his hands on David’s knees. It was a gesture that David had previously classified as pitying, but he knew better, now. 

It wasn’t for his comfort at all.

“Thank you, David.”

David had half a mind to ask what it was like to kiss an old man with a mustache, but they didn’t have the time for jokes like that anymore, so he just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

---

The eyeroll David had given when Hal told him the name of the town they’d be living in was named Jupiter was so legendary it surpassed his previous exploits with ease. But, despite how silly it was, he couldn’t deny the warmth in his chest. 

They’d gotten their trip to Jupiter, just a little late.

Jupiter, Washington, was as small as a small mountain town got. It didn’t even have an elementary school for Sunny to attend (she was bussed to the neighboring, larger town). Most residents were the descendants of the people who had first lived there, so their new faces stuck out for awhile, but they eventually concluded what was essentially the truth, albeit missing some key details, and moved on- they were just two retirees, hoping to live out what was left of the older one’s life in peace with their orphaned granddaughter, nothing exciting.

Hal laughed at how huffy David had gotten at the granddaughter comments.

For the first month, their time there was peaceful. Content. Happy.

The second month, David starting being able to spend less and less time out of bed.

In the third month, he took Hal aside.

“You should stop sleeping in the same bed as me.”

His husband was a genius, he knew exactly why, but he still asked anyway.

“Don’t make me say it.” 

That he didn’t want Hal to wake up one sunny spring morning cuddling a corpse.

Tears were shed, as they always were, but he complied nonetheless. All of David’s belongings were transferred to the guest bedroom (Hal had tried to convince him to stay in the master bedroom, it was more comfortable, but David was adamant- that was where Hal would be staying in the future, and he didn’t want his ghost lingering in the air whenever he slept).

On the first day of the fourth month, right after sending Sunny off to school, Hal told him they were getting a dog for her.

“She loves those chickens, and I thought she might like another pet.”

“Or is it to replace me?” he asked, morbid mirth nearly buried under the pure gravel that had become his voice, “Seems to fit perfectly.”

Hal’s eyes, sad and weary, seemed to want nothing to do with this conversation, but he participated for his partner’s sake, “How so?”

“It’ll bark at strangers, bite the hand that feeds, and just generally be a pain in your ass.”

Despite himself Hal did laugh, not entirely bitter, “We’ll train it better than that.”

“Don’t train it too well. Won’t remind you enough of me.”

Fifth month, they had a dog. Rex, a joke on two layers- a name so common it was funny, and a reminder of one man’s shame that he’d never quite shake off. Not a husky, because while that would please David, they’d be keeping it long term and that level of energy just wouldn’t suit their needs. Rex was an adolescent Golden Retriever. 

The dog of the American dream.

Almost like he could tell David wouldn’t be around long enough to justify getting attached, Rex mostly ignored him. The feeling was mutual. 

Sunny loved them both dearly, and that was enough.

---

They had been there half a year, and Sunny made them breakfast. Her specialty, eggs fried to methodical perfection, toast just a little browner than anyone would like, maple sausage microwaved for ten seconds more than the instructions said just to make sure they were thoroughly cooked, and a glass of pulpless orange juice tucked precariously into the crook of her arm as she carried the meal to Uncle Dave’s bedroom.

It was two minutes after Hal watched Sunny depart from the kitchen that he heard a loud crash, glass and ceramic shattering, followed by Rex’s insistent barking and whining. He was on his feet and rushed to the scene, fearing the worst and finding exactly that.

“Oh, Sunny... Sunny...”

“U-Uncle H-Hal,” she barely managed through her cries. Rex, to his credit, ignored the food on the ground and nuzzled at her face, whining, confused and upset by the noises of unparalleled distress his beloved human was emitting. Stifling his own grief, Hal went over to the young girl and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

He didn’t do a great job at holding that grief in after all.

“Sunny, Sunny, Sunny... I’m so sorry... I should have checked up on him when I woke up... It’s okay, Sunny...”

“H-He’s d-d-dead. J-Just,” her stutter was exacerbated by her choking sobs, “J-Just l-like my m-mother.”

The downside of having such a bright child was that you couldn’t shield them from life’s harsh realities that easily. There was no convincing Sunny that Uncle Dave was with the birds in the clouds, or any other such comforting tale. 

He was dead and gone, and she knew that.

---

The gravestone read:

               David Emmerich

       Beloved father and husband.

When it’s Lily’s (we didn’t name her until she was three. People looked at us like we grew extra heads, but we just wanted to be sure to not be too attached. Just in case,) tenth birthday, I wake up with him. 

“Can I help?”

“You want to bake?” he asks me. In a way, he means it. I have always left the kitchen things up to him. But he’s also joking with me- we’ve gotten better at joking over time, now that he’s more certain that when I say something to him, I mean it.

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t argue.

We don’t live in a very big house, because we discovered that big houses bring back memories we both spend most of our time running from, so the walk to the kitchen is short. Like every time, he prepared everything over the course of the last week, so he just pulls down each item from the cabinet one at a time. Cake flour, sugar, leavening, and vanilla. He asks me to get the milk, butter, (we use goat’s) and eggs from the refrigerator, so I do, placing it next to everything else. 

It took awhile to get used to the fridge, but less time than other things- being able to keep things cold year round is nice. We had one when we lived in the Victor’s Village, but that’s another time we like to forget about. I barely ate at home then, anyways.

“We have to let the eggs, milk, and butter sit for an hour. We can make the frosting in the meantime.”

Baking is a lot like making medicine with Mom and Prim. Lots of waiting and a test of my patience. 

Peeta looks peaceful as he mixes the sugar, milk, and vanilla to make the frosting, so baking isn’t so bad.

Next we preheat the oven, we get the pans out, and butter them up. After that, we mix the ingredients. Saying “we” at this point is generous, really. Peeta does it, and I just stand there awkwardly. I mostly wanted to see him do it, not help, and I think he knows that, because he explains each step like he was talking to Lily or Benjamin.

“Bring the pans over here and hold one of them steady for me.”

“Got it.”

He tips the bowl and the batter slowly drips inside, filling it up to just before it gets full. We repeat this four more times, then put them in the oven. Now it’s time to wait again. By now, the sun has started to rise, filling the kitchen with much warmer light than the lamps had been doing. I lean into his side and he puts his hand on my waist and we’re quiet for a while.

“Peeta?”

“Yeah?”

Before following up on my question, I kiss him, quick and soft, and very much real.

“Would you make me a cake for my birthday?”

He kisses me too.

"Watch 'yer smart mouth, pal," Logan growled, but his closest companion knew the difference between anger and friendly irritation, and this was the latter, "What I mean is, I'm sorry for all the idiots who don't understand what they're lookin' at when they see you."

A warmth filled Kurt's chest at the declaration  For all Logan's bluster, and very, very sharp edges, he cared for his friends. There was no one among them quicker to defend Kurt's appearance than him, even if rarely as straightforwardly as this, "Ah, tausend dank, Logan. I am not so bothered by it now, at least when it is a stranger. The support you all have given me means far more to my heart than their fear."

Logan knocked back the last sip of his beer and placed it down on the coffee table with a thunk, "That's good ta' hear, elf, but not what I meant."

With a curious tilt of his head, Kurt climbed down from his perch to sit beside the other, tail flicking around behind him with interest, "What did you mean, then- Autsch!"

The exclamation came more from surprise than pain, as Logan had reached out abruptly to grab hold of Kurt's tail to stop its movement and ensure he had its bearer's full attention. Of course the man could just teleport away, but he was far too stunned to do anything but look at Logan with wide, golden eyes.

"No one's quite like you, elf."

"Ja, ich... Yes, I..." 

The hand on the upper part of his tail traveled downwards, and a shudder wracked through him at the sensation.

"Who needs 'normal' when you got looks like yours? I'd rather be lookin' at you than anything else."

Heart thumping a kilometer a minute under Logan's intense, unmasked gaze, Kurt swallowed thickly, "Let me make sure I'm understanding what's happening here. You are, flirting with me, yes?

The hand gripping his tail let go, but before Kurt would mourn the loss, a tender hand came up to touch his fuzzy cheek, and it's gentle caresses felt more meaningful because he was all too aware of the deadly power they were capable of, "If 'ya have to ask, I've been doing a bad job."

"Nein, nein, you were fine. More than, really. I just feared it was wishful thinking, mein Freund. Mir kommt es vor als würden wir uns schon seit Ewigkeiten kennen," the confusion on Logan's face tipped Kurt off that he had slipped into his mother tongue, "I feel like we've known each other for an eternity, but I did not want to make the assumption that you felt the same." 

"I might as well have been alive for an eternity, elf, but it woulda been a helluva lot better if you were around for it."

While the flirtation was definitely working on him, Kurt couldn't help but laugh, "You are deceptively smooth for all the prickles you possess."

Grinning, Logan's began to rub his thumb against the short fuzz if Kurt's cheek, "I'm choosin' to interpret that as you saying it's working?"

Kurt returned the expression, before leaning in so close their lips brushed, “If you have to ask, I am doing a bad job.”

First thing in the morning, training lance gripped in hand, Palla approached her again, mouth knit into a tight, determined frown.

“Lass, look-” the older woman began, as always, but now she paused, expression stricken with an emotion that Palla couldn’t yet decipher, “That’s quite the face you're making. Not the face of a young girl anymore.”

Her grip tightened.

Sighing, the captain’s shoulders slumped, “If you’re so determined, you can train with the Princess. Normally only the royal family start this young, but I suppose she wouldn’t mind a sparring partner her own age. Follow me.”

Her face perked up at the mention of Princess Minerva, “Oh, thank you!”

Of course, she had known about the first princess for some time. Her mother had been the queen’s personal vassal before both their deaths, so Palla had been told from a young age she would likely inherit a similar duty. She followed close at Mylla’s heels, into the castle walls. Another place she had visited briefly with her mother, but she had never gone through this way, into the royal guard’s training area.

When they arrived, they found a girl who couldn’t be any older than she was having her footing be critiqued by an older man.

“Oi, Odger!” Mylla called out to catch his attention. He turned to look at them, his grizzled but not unfriendly face reminding Palla of her father in many ways. The girl, who she realized must be Princess Minerva, looked at her with curiosity. Maybe she didn’t get to see a lot of other kids?

The man named Odger relaxed his posture, gesturing to Palla, who was overcome with a sudden wave of shyness and hid behind the Captain, “What’ve you got there? New recruit for the guard? A little young, ain’t she?”

Mylla stepped aside and gave the young girl a gentle push, sending her stumbling forward into focus. Mustering her courage, she stood up straight, holding her lance in the way she remembered seeing her mother do when speaking to the late queen, deferential yet confident, “I’m Palla, sir. Atheleys daughter. I want to become a pegasus knight like my mother was.”

He gazed at her impassively, “What if I said you’re not old enough? Isn’t that what Mylla has been telling ‘ya?”

She knew that she shouldn’t say what she was about to, that with the strict way the Macedonian military operated, she could ruin her chances of ever getting a position in the corps, but the repressed feelings from her mother’s passing bubbled to the surface as she replied, heatedly, “I would say that I am old enough. I watched my Mother my whole life. Give me time and I’ll surpass everyone!”

For a moment following their outburst, there was silence, but it was quickly followed by raucous laughter from Odger, who pat his belly jovially, “Careful talking to yer superiors like that, little lady! If I was anyone but a retired knight turned combat instructor, there'd be some real consequences,” he calmed down, settling his face into a soft smile, “I see you’re truly serious. It won’t be easy, and you won’t get any special treatment- just like this one here doesn’t.”

The Princess nodded gravely.

“Show up tomorrow at sun up, and be ready. I won’t be teaching you the basics.”

“Thank you, sir! I’ll do my best!”

---

He was serious when he said it wouldn’t be easy. Every evening when she came home to her sisters, it was in a state of exhaustion and ache, every muscle complaining at once.

That doesn’t mean she wasn’t enjoying herself.

Every lance swing, every knee scrape, made her feel closer to her mother, which in turn made her stomach churn less when Est looked up at her and called her “Mama!” before being corrected,

And, of course, there was her training partner.

Princess Minerva was a serious girl, in much the same way Catria seemed poised to become. There was a look on her face that Palla knew meant she planned to be a fighter her whole life, and that this training was not just exercise- but might one day keep her alive. 

But if you got her talking about her brother, baby sister, or the pegasus she had been working with, it was an entirely different story. Her eyes would light up and she would laugh and swing her arms around recounting the story of the way her little sibling finally said her name for the first time.

“She can only call me ‘Min’ right now,” she recounted as they took a break to eat some lunch, smiling as she wiped some crumbs off her face, “But the nursemaid told me that in a few months she will likely be able to say my full name.”

“I remember when Catria used to call me ‘Pal’,” Palla replied, swallowing her bite of bread, “Its’ nice that you’re a big sister too. I get lonely sometimes when I only get to see my sisters.”

Minerva nodded, “I understand. I love my brother and my sister, but I enjoy speaking to someone close to my own age. Father said it would be good for me. He wants me to be strong, but,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “He’s actually nice. Him and my brother can be scary, but they’re both very kind.”

Palla giggled, “My mother was the same way. Everyone said she was so serious, but she always played with me and read me lots of stories.”

“...do you miss your mother very much?”

Her head snapped up at this abrupt question to look at Minerva, who was turned away to hide her face, “I miss my mother.”

She sometimes forgot that the Princess had lost a parent as well, “...Yes. I miss her a whole lot. But,” she reached out to pat her companion’s knee, “I’m doing just fine! I’m going to be just as strong as she was. So you don’t have to worry about me!”

Because she was a big girl! Big girls didn’t think about their mother and cry into their pillows, or want to scream whenever they saw someone holding their mother’s hand!

Minerva moved to face her now, face twisted in confusion, looking like she had something to say but just didn’t know the right words, “Palla, I-”

“Times up, kiddos!” Odger’s voice shattered the tense atmosphere between them. So the conversation was left behind- but not forgotten.

---

It was many months later, nearing Palla’s tenth birthday, that Minerva stopped her before she headed home. The sun was setting and it’s final rays were streaming into the open area of the royal training area. Odger had already left, so it was only the two of them.

“Palla.”

“Yes, Lady Minerva?”

Minerva’s hand was on her wrist, holding her in place for the ensuing silence, before the Princess finally gathered her courage, “I was thinking about... when we get older.”

“When we get older?”

“Yes,” she took a deep breath, and spoke in that serious, assured tone she always did, “We should get married. That way, I can always make sure you’re not lonely or sad.”

Palla’s eyes widened, cheeks reddened, and jaw dropped, “Married!?”

Minerva’s face twisted like it had that day nearly a year ago, but this time, she was able to voice her thoughts, “When you leave, my heart hurts, because I know that you are sad- you always smile when you come here, but there are times I see you nearly in tears. The thought of you being lonely makes me quite angry. I want to make sure you’re always actually happy. Marriage seemed like the easiest way to do that.”

This never happened in any of her mother’s storybooks. There was usually an epic adventure and love story before the princess decided she was to defy her station and be with the knight she loved. 

And they usually weren’t nine years old, either.

However, the offer made Palla’s stomach warm. Minerva was strong, and reliable. She never expected Palla to be more than she was- just a girl her own age, a peer, a friend. Sometimes she even thought that it might be okay to share how she really feels to her, to open up, to... to cry. Even though she was a big girl. 

She thought that maybe, she didn’t have to be a big girl around Minerva.

“You mean it?”

“Yes. I want to make you happy.”

The tears started coming down, and big girl Palla was gone. All that was left was Palla- a not-quite-ten year old child who missed her mother, and just wanted to be a kid. The quiet crying quickly became hiccuping sobs, dragging her forearm across her eyes to dry the deluge as it came.

“I’m,” she sniffed loudly, “I’m lonely! I love my sisters, but I want my mother! I want my father! I want someone to take care of me sometimes too!”

In a flash, she felt a pair of arms around her, and realized slowly that she was being hugged by the taller girl. It was an awkward, unpracticed hug, but it was the first time she had been hugged by someone bigger than her in nearly a year. It wasn’t Catria or Est hugging her leg before they scurried off to play, it was a warm, enveloping hug that made her feel safe.

“I will take care of you. We can be together always. Father tells me that one day I shall get to be in charge of my own unit, and you can be in it. And we can get married. That way you’ll always know I will be there for you.”

Sniffling weakly now, she squeezed back tightly, “Thank you. I’ll do my best to get as strong as you so I can stay by your side.”

They stayed like that for a moment, the setting sun now having almost fully retreated, casting them in the cool darkness of the early night. In the back of her mind, Palla knew that Minerva was probably beholden to whatever marriage promises her father makes for her, but she couldn’t get herself to care.

Not when she could finally, finally, be herself.

---

It was thirteen years later when they were actually wed.

Of course Palla’s doubts had been correct at the time. The king had just laughed at his daughter, pat her head, and sent her on her way. He had several marriage contracts in talks with other kingdoms even at that time, so as much as he loved his daughter, one freedom he hadn’t planned to allow her was romance.

But, of course, before any of them could come to fruition, his life was snuffed out by his own son.

Over the years, Palla kept her promise, and was the first pegasus knight assigned to Minerva’s unit, later followed dutifully by her younger sisters and becoming the Whitewings that were known far and wide. Together, the two women had fought two wars, overcome adversity in all its forms, and a childhood friendship became... more.

So when Minerva renounced her claim to the throne, and wandered the land helping the war restitution with her own two hands, Palla followed suit. Their marriage was a small affair, done in the halls of Lena’s convent by the woman herself. It wasn’t for the public’s eye- it was just for them.

That night, as they curled together in bed feeling a peace that had been out of reach for months, Palla remembered her wife’s first proposal.

“You were ready to marry me at nine years old,” she reminiscenced fondly, enjoying the brief embarrassed tense up from Minerva, “I don’t think I could ever forget.”

“That seemed to me to be the only solution at the time,” she pulled Palla closer, “Everyone was always discussing marriage around me, so I believed it to be the solution to every ‘adult’ problem.”

“You turned out to be right, all these years later. I’m happily married to you, and I never feel lonely when you’re around.”

Minerva placed a kiss on her wife’s forehead, who hummed appreciatively at the gesture, “I did think about asking you again, many times, as we grew up, but by that point I had learned what it truly meant. And glad I am that I waited. I want to give you a peaceful, happy life.”

“And I want the same for you,” Palla replied, more certain than she had ever felt before. Happy tears welled in her eyes, just like they had when they exchanged vows.