Chapter Text
Garroth and Laurance took the long route home that night, quietly allowing the day’s events to sink in. Their fingers remained intertwined as they walked slowly, surrounded by the sounds of the city slowly closing down for the night.
The streets were narrower here, the stone underfoot worn smooth by decades of foot traffic. A path made for a village, not a city. Garroth remembered when Aphmau built the path, when this section of the village smelled of fresh timber and earth. Those memories felt a million years away these days.
This section of the village was familiar in the way newer districts weren’t. Not because he had neglected to visit the rest of the city, but from the way the past imprints on a person, etching certain paths to memory. Some corners carried laughter, others the quiet weight of loss. He could trace the route with his eyes closed.
Laurance walked beside him, thumb brushing over his knuckles, “You’re quiet.”
Garroth hummed softly, squeezing his hand, “Just thinking.” He replied, voice soft, “I still can’t really believe that they’re here, they’re back. All of them.”
“Me neither.” Laurance admitted, eyes tracing the path ahead as the city slowly widened into a softer residential area—more space between homes, a proper park for children, lanterns glowing gently along the streets.
“I mean, it’s amazing, of course it is,” Garroth said. His voice caught slightly. “I just…”
Laurance’s grip tightened, a quiet grounding. “We spent so long thinking they were gone. We held memorials, we grieved. And now… they’re back. It’s different, and it’s right, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.”
Garroth let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Right. It’s just… hard to reconcile. 15 years, and yet… here they are.”
Laurance nodded, eyes softening. “And we’ll help them find their place again, among what we’ve spent 15 years building.”
For a few moments, they walked in silence, letting the sound of the quiet city fill the space between them. Laurance slowed when they came to Ungrth’s grave, Garroth slowed with him, squeezing his hand gently. “Do you need a minute?” He asked quietly.
Laurance shook his head, “No,” he replied, eyes lingering on the ornate grave, untouched despite 15 years of development happening around it. “I stopped this morning.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and finally turned back to Garroth, flashing a small bittersweet smile, “I want to go home and see the boys. Ungrth will still be there tomorrow.”
Garroth gave his hand a squeeze as they continued walking. Near where the original gate once stood was the entrance to the academy, and just before—right between the academy and Ungrth’s grave—sat the modest house Garroth and Laurance called home.
Two guards were posted at the front gate, a concession that had taken Garroth until year 12 to agree to.
Laurance tipped his head in greeting as they approached, “Kyle, Alissa.”
The young guards straightened immediately, saluting the moment they recognized the pair. “Captain, Lord Ro’Meave.” Kyle greeted.
“Good evening Kyle, Alissa.” Garroth replied softly.
Alissa shifted slightly, eyes darting to the house behind her. “Your sons are home,” she added, warm but polite. “Levin arrived from patrol just before sunset. Malachi has been here since around lunch.”
“Thank you.” Laurance said softly, smiling gently at the two young adults.
Garroth nodded in thanks as he reached for the latch, the gate swinging inward the moment he undoes it. He stepped through first, Laurance following close behind as they headed up the familiar path to the front door.
The house greeted them with warmth and the faint smell of tea when they entered through the kitchen.
Levin and Malachi were sitting at the dining room table. Malachi had a scroll unraveled in front of him, brow furrowed and head ducked low as he scribbled something in the margins. Levin had his feet propped up on the chair beside him, cradling a mug of what looked like tea between his palms.
“It’s nearly dark.” Levin pointed out immediately.
“Thanks Captain Obvious.” Laurance teases, closing the front door behind them. “Today wasn’t exactly a normal day.”
Malachi looked up at that, setting aside the quill. His gaze moved between them, sharp and searching. Holding that centuries of wisdom Garroth sometimes forgot he held. “How is everyone?”
Garroth sighed as he moved further into the kitchen, loosening his cloak. “Shaken. But alive.”
“So…it’s true?” Levin asked, his eyes dancing between Garroth and Laurance. “They’re back? All of them?”
Laurance nodded as he moved toward the stove, checking to see if the kettle was still hot. “Everyone that disappeared that day, besides Zane and…whoever it was he had with him.”
“Mom?” Malachi asked, his voice smaller than they had heard it in probably a decade. “She’s…okay?”
Garroth stilled. The question landed softly, but it carried 15 years of grief. Grief that Garroth still thinks Malachi never really processed.
“Yes,” he said after a beat. “Some things happened, but from what we can tell. She’s okay.”
Malachi’s shoulders sagged just slightly and Laurance abandoned the kettle altogether. He crossed the room in efficient strides and smoothed a hand down Malachi’s back, warm and grounding. “She asked about you two. I think it was good to ask you to stay home today, I don’t think we would’ve gotten much done if she had to see you all day.”
“Especially after she saw you this morning.” Garroth added, coming up to rest a hand on the back of Levin’s chair. “I think she’s excited to see you guys…for more than just a few minutes like she did this morning with Malachi.”
Malachi blows out a breath, “I…” he started, then shook his head. “I just can’t believe it.”
“It will take some time to wrap our heads around.” Laurance said softly, “For all of us. But they’re good people, this is good.”
Levin stared down at his mug, watching the steam curl upwards. “It feels weird,” he admitted. “Like the world tipped and forgot to warn us.”
Garroth huffed a quiet breath of amusement, “Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Laurance’s hand found Malachi’s shoulder again, and Malachi leaned in subconsciously. His head resting against Laurance’s side much like it had when he was a child. Laurance didn’t comment on it, only adjusted slightly, thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles into Malachi’s shoulder.
“Nothing is being asked of you boys tonight,” Laurance said gently. “No decisions, nothing. Just…let it be real for now. Everything else will come with time.”
The words seemed to ease the tension in the room, Malachi’s shoulders finally relaxed, the tension draining from him. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—just heavy in the way only family moments could be, when everyone was thinking the same thing but no one needed to say it aloud.
Malachi inhaled slowly, then exhaled just as carefully. When he pulled away from Laurance and stood, the tension crept back into his posture. “I…” he started, then shook his head. “I think I need a minute.”
Garroth’s brows knit together as Malachi turned and headed down the hall. His steps were measured, controlled, but there was a brittle edge to them that set the room on edge. The scroll Malachi had been working on lay abandoned on the table—an uncharacteristic oversight that spoke louder than words.
Laurance watched him go, concern settling deep in his chest. He glanced back at Garroth, who met his gaze with the same unspoken worry.
“I’ve got him,” Laurance said quietly, tilting his head toward Levin in a subtle, practiced gesture—stay with him.
Garroth nodded, hand tightening on the back of Levin’s chair as Laurance disappeared down the hall.
~~~
Laurance found him sat on the edge of his bed, head bowed, elbows braced on his knees.
“Hey.” He said softly, not moving past the doorway giving Malachi space without leaving him alone.
Malachi didn’t look up right away. “I remember you know,” he said, voice coming out rougher than probably intended.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific Mal.”
Malachi dragged both hands through his hair before finally lifting his head to look at him. “Everything,” he said. “My life feels like its three phases, before her, during her, and after her.” He swallowed, looking back down at his hands. “I remember everything that came before…but it seems so…small when I remember everything that came after you guys found me in that castle.”
Laurance’s expression softened and he crossed the room to sit beside him. “It’s hard,” he started. “To compartmentalize things like that.”
“When you guys found me I had been dead for centuries.” Malachi continued, “I owe my freedom, my entire life to her.” His fingers twisted together in his lap. “And she was gone, Papa. Gone.” His voice cracked despite his best effort. “I thought I had moved past it. I really thought I had.”
Laurance’s chest ached at the word Papa— at the vulnerability in it. “Grief isn’t linear, sometimes you’re okay, and sometimes it really fucking sucks,” He said.
“Is it even grief?” Malachi asked, shaking his head. “She’s not dead. This…none of this makes any sense.”
“Nothing has ever made sense in this family, Mal.” Laurance replied, voice soft but edged with a bit of humor. “Your Dad is the last O’Khasian heir left. I’m a Shadow Knight who hasn’t bothered claiming his immortality. Levin’s had three sets of parents who have been the Lord of this place.” He huffed a soft breath, “And you, well. Like you said you’re technically older than all of us combined…times ten.”
Malachi let out a humorless laugh, a wry smile tugged at his lips as he finally looked at him again. “You’re right. Dysfunctional is our specialty.”
Laurance nudged him gently with his elbow, “It’s definitely dysfunctional. But it works, doesn’t it?”
“It does. And that’s what scares me.” Malachi admits, his eyes looking back down toward his lap. “I don’t know how to make room for anyone else, you and Dad didn’t replace her. But you…you filled the space that she left. And I don’t know how to make more room without hurting someone.”
Laurance smoothed a hand down his back gently. “Nobody is expecting you to cut your chest open and carve out extra space for anyone, Malachi,” he said softly. He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You think me and your Dad just decided one day 15 years ago ‘Shit, our hearts are suddenly twice as big, guess we’ll take these kids in’? No. That’s not how it works. Love like that…for the people around you grows slowly. You have to give it a chance to cultivate before you see it grow.”
Malachi let the words sink in, a breath loosening from his chest. “So…it’s okay if I don’t feel ready right now?”
“I don’t care if you’re ready now, tomorrow, or in six months Malachi. There is no timeline for something like this, you get to set the pace. Put out the feelers, get to know her, not just as this person she is in your mind, but who she truly is.”
Malachi exhaled, his shoulders easing for the first time since he left the kitchen in a flurry. “I… I think I can try that.” His voice was quiet, hesitant, but there was a weight lifted in it, a little room for hope.
Laurance gave him a small, encouraging smile. “That’s all we need. One step at a time, Mal. You don’t have to figure out the whole puzzle at once.”
After a long pause, Malachi finally nodded, a small but genuine gesture. “Okay. One step at a time. I can handle that.”
Laurance wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. “I love you kid. Always. No matter what.”
Malachi smiled for the first time that evening, “I know. And I love you too, Papa.”
They stayed there for a few moments longer in the soft glow of the bedroom, letting the weight of the day ease just enough. Down the hall, Garroth and Levin waited, but they could wait just a little longer.
~~~
Garroth watched as Laurance followed Malachi down the hall and out of sight before turning his attention back to Levin, who had set his mug down on the table with a little more force than necessary.
“Shit.” Levin muttered, frowning, “Malachi’s really messed up about this isn’t he?”
Garroth carefully nudged Levin’s feet onto the floor and sat in the chair beside him. “Malachi remembers them better than you do. The group who disappeared, everything that happened back then.”
“I know that.” Levin replied, his voice tinged with defensiveness, “I just…” he sighed, fingers curling tighter around his mug. “I know that Mal’s older, that he remembers. But I don’t remember, not really.”
Garroth smiled with quiet sympathy, “You can’t beat yourself up for that, you were young Levin.”
“I know that,” Levin replies, fingers tightening around his mug. “But I feel like I should have missed them…but I don’t, not really. I feel like I should be freaked out like you guys are, but…I don’t even really know them.”
Garroth's smile melted into a frown holding a little sadness. “Levin, you were a kid, barely older than a toddler. You can’t beat yourself up for something you can’t control.”
“She was my mom too…” Levin mumbles, “And I don’t even…I don’t remember her at all.”
The worlds hung between them in the fragile silence.
“You do know it doesn’t make you a bad son that you don’t remember?” Garroth asked finally, his voice soft.
Levin didn’t answer right away. His fingers tightened around the mug, knuckles paling. “It feels like it does,” he admitted. “Everyone else got something real—real memories—and I just… missed it all. I don’t miss her.”
Garroth leaned closer, turning Levin to face him. “You don’t miss her because you didn’t know you had to care,” he said quietly. “You don’t miss her because you were too young to hold onto those memories. That’s not a failure, Levin. That’s circumstance.”
He paused, choosing his next words with care. “She loved you anyway. She still does. To her, you’re probably still that little boy she sent away on that ship, hoping—praying—you’d be safe.”
Levin’s grip loosened slightly.
“You have her in arm’s reach now,” Garroth continued, voice steady and sure. “She’s here. You don’t have to reach backward for memories you never had. You get to move forward instead. You get to make new ones—ones that are yours, ones that last.”
Levin swallowed, staring down into the mug, the tea long since gone cold. “What if I mess it up?” he asked quietly.
Garroth’s hands squeezed his shoulders, firm and grounding. “Then you mess it up,” he said simply. “She’s not expecting perfection. Neither are your Papa and I. This situation isn’t normal—there’s no right way to do it.”
He shifted slightly, making sure Levin was really listening. “Our love for you isn’t conditional, and neither is Aphmau’s. None of us expect these next steps to come easily. It’s going to be trial and error for everyone.”
Garroth softened then, thumb brushing reassuringly against Levin’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to be awkward. You’re allowed to be unsure. All anyone’s asking is that you show up when you’re ready.”
Levin let out a shaky breath, some of the tightness finally easing from his chest. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I can do that.”
Garroth nodded once, satisfied. “That’s all we’ll ever ask.”
Levin nodded and set his mug on the table, leaning forward and hugging Garroth. “Thank you Dad.” He murmured.
Garroth froze for half a heartbeat before his arms came up around Levin, pulling him in close without hesitation. He pressed a hand to the back of his son’s head, fingers curling into his hair the way they had when Levin was smaller, when the world had felt simpler.
“Always,” he murmured back, voice rough with something unguarded. “You never have to thank me for that.”
~~~
“I hate seeing them like that.” Garroth said quietly, perched on the edge of his and Laurance’s bed. Long after the boys had both retreated into their rooms for the night. “It kills me. That I don’t know how to help them.”
“I know,” Laurance replied softly, leaning his sword against the dresser. The quiet clink of metal against wood sounded too loud in the stillness of the room. “It was easier when it was grief. As awful as that sounds.” He turned to face Garroth, resting a hip against the bed frame. “Grief has rules. You mourn, you remember, you move forward as best you can.”
Garroth’s elbows were braced against his knees, one hand dragging slowly over his jaw, as if the motion might smooth out the jumbled knot of his thoughts. “They learned to live without her. But now the thing they laid to rest is standing back up and asking to be known again.”
Laurance nodded slowly. “Exactly. There’s no map for this. No right way to feel when the person you survived losing suddenly comes back.”
Garroth’s jaw tightened, his gaze fixed somewhere past the floorboards. “Levin feels like he doesn’t deserve a second chance because he forgot her once.”
Laurance stepped forward, slotting himself comfortably between Garroth’s thighs, fingers finding their way into his husband’s blond curls, gentle and familiar. “And Malachi thinks his love for her is a betrayal to us.”
Garroth exhaled slowly, leaning forward until his forehead rested against Laurance’s stomach, shoulders slightly hunched over. “I can organize trade, fight wars, negotiate treaties. I can rebuild a city from rubble.” His voice wavered despite himself, “But seeing them hurt like this is killing me. They think our love is conditional, and that breaks my heart.”
Laurance’s hands stilled for a moment in Garroth’s hair, the familiar weight of his husband folding against him making something ache in his chest. He rested his palms there, steady and sure, thumbs brushing his temples softly, as if to remind Garroth he was being held.
“We can’t undo what has already been done,” Laurance whispered, voice gentle, “but we can support them in what comes next. That’s all anyone needs right now.”
Garroth tilted his head slightly, letting himself melt into Laurance’s touch. “It feels… so helpless,” he admitted, voice muffled. “I’ve faced armies, I’ve made decisions that changed the lives of hundreds, but I can’t make their hurt go away. It’s not a nightmare I can chase away, or a mean kid at school I can confront.”
“You don’t have to fix this,” Laurance said softly. “You just have to be here. You just have to be you. They aren’t babies anymore Gar, this is something they have to face on their own. All we can do is be here to remind them that we love them, that we’re not going anywhere.”
Garroth closed his eyes briefly, letting the words wash over him, “You’re right.”
Laurance brushed his thumb over Garroth’s cheek gently, “Tomorrow won’t be easy, our days probably won’t get any easier for the foreseeable future. But we spent 15 years making it through hard days, what else is new?”
Garroth let out a soft, huff off amusement, the tension in his chest loosening just slightly. “I suppose you’re right. Hard days are kind of our thing, aren’t they?”
Laurance leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Garroth’s head. “They are,” he murmured. “And we get to face them together. Just like we always have.”
Garroth tilted his head up to meet Laurance’s gaze, vulnerability plain in his eyes. “I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he admitted quietly. “To have you… to have all of this.”
Laurance’s smile softened, eyes glimmering in the dim light. “Luck had little to do with it. Choice had everything to do with it. I chose you, Gar. And I’d choose you again a thousand times over.”
Garroth’s hands came up to rest on Laurance’s hips, a smile curling on his lips. “And I’d choose you every time.”
Laurance chuckled softly, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to Garroth’s forehead. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I plan on keeping you around, whether you like it or not.”
Garroth laughed quietly, the sound warm and unguarded. “I think I can live with that.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, the room filled only with the soft rhythm of their breathing and the faint hum of the night outside. Garroth’s head rested back against Laurance’s chest, and Laurance’s arms wrapped around him, secure and unyielding.
“I wish we could shield them from all of this,” Garroth murmured after a pause, voice low and almost vulnerable.
Laurance shook his head gently, thumb tracing small circles over Garroth’s back. “We can’t, Gar. But we can be the safe place they return to. The constant they can trust. That has to be enough, at least for now.”
Garroth exhaled slowly, letting the tension slip from his shoulders, if only a little. “You always make it sound…manageable.”
“That’s because you’d let yourself combust with anxiety if there wasn’t one level head in this marriage.” Laurance teased.
Garroth let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Never thought you’d be the level head.”
“Clearly you’ve never met yourself.” Laurance retorted, a fond smile curving at his lips. “I love you anyway though.”
“And I love you.” Garroth murmured, his hands tightening on Laurance’s hips, tugging him just slightly closer. His chin rested against Laurance’s chest as he gazed up at him, eyes soft and full of quiet trust.
Laurance’s arms wrapped around him, holding him there, steady and warm. The days ahead wouldn’t be simple or easy, but they would survive. 15 years of long days had prepared them for complex situations, and eventually things would right themselves again. They just had to hang on until that time came.