Chapter Text
It was weirdly quiet.
Jupiter wasn’t exactly sure how he’d come to stand where he was, but his natural sense of alarm felt dulled by a repetitive, only-stronger-by-the-second feeling that he was meant to be there, one that told him not to worry even if felt like he should. He could vaguely recognize the scenery—the bare-faced cliff they’d been on before Erebus had brought them to the castle for the gem—but he had no idea why he’d be there a second time…
Or why it would feel so right.
Roughly shaking his head, he forced himself to turn on his heel, ignoring the unease joining the forced complacency.
“Sa—?”
Only his voice caught in his throat when he was met with—instead of the cave he expected, the yawning mouth of darkness—a field of pure white snow spread out before him as far as he could see, the same waiting behind when he half-turned.
More alarm flooded his mind, one hand already falling to the hilt of his sword at his hip. “Saturn?” he repeated, much quieter. “Erebus?”
The only answer was the howling wind.
What in all of the stars was happening to him? Where was he?
Another slow, examining turn found the landscape behind him had changed a second time, no longer plain snowy fields but a full-on mountainous terrain rising above him, the same snow lingering wherever he looked, pines and other wintery plants poking out of it in shades of green that nearly seemed black. Somehow contrastingly concerned and yet completely at ease—the feelings warring in his chest—Jupiter kept one hand wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword as he took several steps forward to the only thing that called his attention.
A tiny cave entrance was set in the rock before him, nearly blending into the rest if not for a subtle blue glow that seemed to pulse and strengthen the moment his eyes found it. In the back of his mind, Jupiter recognized the glow as similar to Erebus’s gem, and he—
Took a single step forward and felt himself nearly overcome by a sudden, leeching cold, like his brain had mentally taken in the landscape around them and realized he should be for his own lack of prepared clothing. Stars, he thought, teeth gritting.
What had he even been thinking, going without—?
And then Jupiter glanced down and abruptly realized he was already wearing something different than the simple clothing he favored, a thicker set that felt almost uncomfortably soft and warm against his skin, the feeling dulled by a whistling wind blasting straight onto him, biting into his exposed flesh with the same strength as before. His fingers already felt numb around the hilt of his sword, but Jupiter…
Could only wonder how he’d found himself here, and wonder where the others were.
Saturn, and Erebus, and—
He paused, questioning his own mind for the emptiness that popped in replacement of a third name he somehow instinctively expected. Odd, he thought, teeth gritting together before he shook his head and straightened up, forcing his attention forward. The cold was much lessened than before, less so biting than just uncomfortable, so before it got worse Jupiter made himself to walk straight on through it, picking his way over the rocky—and icy, in patches he did his best to avoid—terrain ahead of him until he was nearly at the cliff face, staring directly at the hidden cave entrance.
He couldn’t see the blue glow anymore. He wasn’t sure when it’d disappeared.
Did he really want to go in there?
But when he called out, hesitantly, “Saturn? Erebus?” the back of his mind lit up with an answer, a unignorable call to enter the cave, to follow the glow.
So he did.
Jupiter shoved aside years of instinct that told him to wait, to assess the situation—and as always with Saturn and Erebus, he listened to his panic and instead hurried forward, boots scraping against the stone beneath as he slipped through the entrance and winding path. The cave broadened into a much wider area after a short bout of purposefully-silenced walking, and Jupiter slowly drew his sword when he caught side of the yawning exit, listening to the quiet shhtick of the blade echoing in the empty before he fixed his stance, lips pressed together hard. He needed to get—
Wait, what was he thinking?
Confusion made him pause, looking around. Why would Saturn and Erebus be in there? They’d all been in Saturn’s kingdom last he knew. Unless he’d somehow hit his head and been given a bout of amnesia—which, honestly, considering everything, really wouldn’t surprise him that much—or…
“Jupiter!”
His eyes whipped open—he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them—at the familiar voice in a fearful tone he couldn’t ever remembering hearing. “Erebus!”
Sword at the ready, Jupiter hurried through exit and straight into a much larger cave, covered in dotted patches in a blue bright crystal-looking substance that glittered wherever he looked. He was nearly blinded by the glory of it all before he forced himself to refocus, pushed his attention back to what he’d heard and searched for—
“Erebus!” he repeated, nearly melting in relieved concern. “What’s wrong? Where’s Saturn?”
Erebus stared right back at him from where he stood, an unreadable expression on his face; he wore the circlet Saturn had given him, the silver metal resting perfectly around his head, his hair left to fall free and over and behind his shoulders; and not only that, but he also wore the cloak he’d been gifted, the midnight blue fabric flowing behind him in a wind Jupiter couldn’t feel himself.
“Did you say something?”
Jupiter frowned. “Erebus,” he tried again, slower this time, “Are you alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
But the words lacked any usual bite, and Erebus’s face looked unusually sunken, his eyes dulled not by shadow alone when Jupiter met them. “Did something happen?” He took a single step towards Erebus and halted at the sound that filled the cavern around them, an ominous creaking and the sound of stone striking against the hard ground. “Where’s Saturn?”
Erebus half-turned away from him, mouth pressed flat.
“I don’t know,” he said, head cocking slightly to the side. “Where is Saturn?”
And then behind him the darkness moved—or not the darkness, but a massive figure shaded and hidden within it—and Jupiter was met with the terrifying sight of a single glowing blue eye opening, slitted pupil locked onto him.
But it felt—
It felt—
Familiar?
The realization of what it was struck him the moment the cave lit up blue around them, illuminating the dragon—and not just any random dragon, Erebus’s dragon form—fully, granting him the sight of the same glittering blue scales he’d last seen before they’d given Erebus back the gem and he’d been stuck human again.
But he was… massive.
Jupiter swore he hadn’t been this big all the time they’d been with him, that one massive eye the size of Erebus’s head—
His heart skipped a beat. Erebus!
“Erebus—!”
But Erebus was completely gone when he looked back, like he’d never been there in the first place, only the dragon’s scales flashing in the glittering light, and before he knew it everything fragmented and broke around him.
Abruptly, he wasn’t in a massive cave but in the same snowy, far-stretching field from before, and before he could take a step he was on his knees in a massive pine forest dotted with snow-covered branches far as the eye could see, and then—
He was lying on his back and staring up at a dark blue sky, lacking any of the stars he was used to. Jupiter could feel nothing but achingly cold, a bone-deep chill like he’d been there for days without a single hint of heat. Attempting to croak a single word, he failed completely and only managed to make a pained sound stuck in his throat, his fingers numb and aching at his sides when he lifted one, staring at his red-tinted fingertips and wondering where he was.
How had he gotten here? Already, his memories were faded like a painting left out in the sunlight for years, hard to grasp and impossible to fully recall.
“Erebus,” he mouthed silently, staring up at the star-absent sky as his breath fogged. “Saturn.”
Where were they?
And then something floated down from above.
Jupiter followed its progress sluggishly, eyes struggling to focus as it spiraled slowly through the empty air, getting closer and closer with each passing second. Finally, in a motion that took more effort than it should have, he lifted his hand and closed his fingers around it.
It was… a feather?
He stared at it silently, studying every inch of it, rubbing the soft texture between his thumb and index finger before he glanced back up at the empty sky, brow knitting.
Where had it—?
And then his eyes snapped open, and instead of a star-absent sky, Jupiter found himself staring up at a beautifully-decorated ceiling, the familiar shade of false gold above and the sound of cheerful humming immediately cluing him into the fact of where he was. His heart thudded in his chest for several more moments before he forced himself to ignore it, turning his head only to catch Erebus staring at him, eyes narrowed and brow knit.
That just reminded him of the Erebus he’d seen in his dream—which in hindsight made him wonder how he hadn’t known it was a dream—and he inhaled slowly, closing his eyes before he exhaled and melted back into the bed beneath him.
“Nightmare, then?”
He relished the sound of Erebus’s usual amused bite, but at the same time his words from earlier in the week rung in Jupiter’s head just as much as the flash of desperation that’d shown on his face before wiping away—
“If you take that fatal injury, it’s not like everything ends. We’re still there. Is that what you want?”
—and he swallowed hard before managing an answer.
“Of a sorts,” he said, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “How did you know?”
“Your heart went crazy,” he said; and when Jupiter turned his attention back to him, he was smirking crooked. “Could be another sort of dream, but you woke up looking like you’d just seen the worst thing you could imagine.” He arched a brow, eyes curious. “What was it?”
Jupiter tried to recall his dream—murky already, annoyingly so—and only managed to shake his head, sighing once. “I have no idea. You were in it,” he admitted. “But not you.”
“Me, but not me,” Erebus repeated. “That makes so much sense, Jupiter.”
He pushed himself upright with a soft groan, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching slowly until the stiffness in his shoulders eased and he rubbed the heel of one hand right where the scar he’d gained before lay. “I meant that it was you, but as in the dream-representation of you, not you like before.” He frowned. “Can you still do that? I can’t recall if you have since the last.”
Erebus dramatically sighed and fell straight back into the bed.
“No,” he grunted. “But not for lack of trying.”
Jupiter’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “You’ve been trying?”
It made a warm feeling flourish in his chest, only magnifying when he looked to the side only to meet Saturn’s eyes where he stood near the balcony, peering at them with obvious fondness in his eyes. “I suppose that must have been a troubled times only thing, then.” He didn’t want to think of the implications that had for his own dream that morning. It reminded him—even as murky it was—of the terrifying dreams he’d had before and while he’d gone after Saturn.
And knowing the result of those…?
Jupiter wasn’t keen to see this one come true.
Any of it.
He rubbed his thumb and index finger together like still had the feather trapped beneath them, the musing interrupted only as Saturn finally said, “You two should really get dressed, don’t you think? The servants will bring breakfast in for us in a bit, and then we—” His voice gained a musical lilt. “—get to go on an adventure! Together! All three of us! Just like before. Wasn’t that fun?”
Saturn made it sound like it was very different from what it’d been.
Erebus groaned, burying his face even further into the pillow with a muffled scoff of, “Yeah. Adventure,” and while Jupiter shot Saturn a commiserating look when he sighed theatrically, inwardly he couldn’t help but agree with Erebus. He’d gotten more than enough adventure for a lifetime.
At this point, he’d just like some peace and quiet.
Was that impossible to hope for?
“How long is this going to take, again?”
Saturn—who’d left behind his usual menagerie of rings for only the simple gold band he’d given him before and their engagement rings—made himself comfortable against the cushioned seat, twisting the golden ring around his finger. Just as he’d left behind the majority of his rings, he wore something far less stand-out, more of a simple tunic and pants than the fancier clothes he often preferred.
Which Jupiter was glad for.
His appearance was already distinctive enough, and his usual attire would only be more eye-catching.
Erebus huffed, dropping into the seat across from him and pulling his cloak tighter, the gem clutched tight in one hand. “You already forgot?”
“Don’t be mean,” Saturn protested, pouting as he leaned toward him.
He just shrugged, doing nothing to hide his obvious smile.
Jupiter nodded to the coachman—who held onto the map Erebus had given them, carefully studying it—before climbing in himself, leaning his sword up beside the door after he’d pulled it shut. “You know I have so much up in my head it’s easy for things to slip by.” He clicked his tongue, turning to him where he’d settled down next to him right across from Erebus. “Jupi, did you know?”
“Three hours or so,” he said. “Not impossibly long.”
Saturn’s answering smile made his heart squeeze before he was distracted as Erebus kicked up his legs, setting his boots up on his knees. The frown was just met with a crooked smirk before Erebus leaned back, head settling against the cushioned wall behind him, cheek tucked against the fur-lined hood of the cloak Saturn had given him. Amazingly, it seemed he fell asleep the moment the carriage finally pulled off with a slight shake, barely even reacting more than to crack his eyes open when they stopped at the palace gates. Jupiter waved absently through the small window when he caught sight of Io, smiling despite himself when the wave he got back was far more enthusiastic.
Once they were on the open road, the steady rhythm of the carriage soothed some of Jupiter’s tension. Not all of it—he thought that’d take a miracle, considering he always held at least a bit of natural tension—but enough that he leaned back slightly, mindful of Erebus’s legs still draped atop his own as he slept. “…Did he sleep at all last night?” he finally asked, studying Erebus’s sleep-slack face, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply. “He was awake when I woke up.”
Saturn hummed, shaking his head. “I’m not sure,” he admitted, frowning. “He was up when I woke up, but… I don’t know. He rarely gets much sleep lately, and when he does…” He reached out, smoothing his thumb against Erebus’s knee over his pants. Erebus didn’t even react to the touch, nor their continued voices. “He’s out like nothing else.”
Jupiter knitted his brow and kept studying him; but then Erebus’s sleeping position made his own body give a sympathetic twinge of pain, and so he let his legs down and shuffled forward, easily rearranging his pliant, sleeping form so that he was on his side—if scrunched up—his cheek against the cushion beneath. He brushed a lock of hair behind his ear, and abruptly Erebus stirred, barely twitching into his fingers before the same purr as always resonated from him.
“How cu-ute,” Saturn crooned, nearly squealing the words. “Let me try!”
Jupiter shot him a look, sitting back.
“Try what?” he asked.
The question was answered when Saturn flashed him a brilliant smile and then leaned forward, cupping his hand against Erebus’s cheek as he swept his thumb along the scales crawling upon it. Erebus did exactly what he’d done before, apparently unconsciously leaning into the touch as his purring only strengthened.
The pleased expression Saturn wore didn’t fade away even when he sat back and folded his hands neatly in his lap. “Don’t tell him he did that,” he pleaded a moment later, tipping his head towards him. Jupiter just fought a smile, lips pressing together. “I don’t want him to somehow stop it.”
When Jupiter nodded slightly, he sighed, slumping over until he’d leaned against his shoulder, a weight he happily accepted. He could feel Saturn at his side and watch Erebus peacefully—at least hopefully peacefully, even if he couldn’t be sure—sleep across from him, and for once his mind settled even more. His thoughts slowed as he peered out the tiny carriage window, settling his arm around Saturn and watching the scenery outside drift by.
He hoped this visit to the… witch… would grant them at least some useful information.
About Erebus’s curse, about the gem, how to fix this…
He wasn’t keen on it otherwise.
By the time the carriage began to slow to a stop the early morning sunlight had long strengthened to mid-day brightness, the roads they traveled on dappled in the shadows of leaves and branches aloft above the road.
Saturn had fallen asleep not long after Erebus—which Jupiter was slightly amazed for, only due to the fact that his own racing mind wouldn’t have rested unless he was basically forced to—and he’d entertained himself with the sound of their breathing, Erebus’s steady purr, and the views outside, all the while stuck internally wondering over what this visit would tell them.
He sat up straight when they pulled to a stop, easing Saturn off of his shoulder to lean against the other wall. Both Erebus and Saturn remained asleep, so he carefully grabbed his sword, strapping it back into place when he stepped out of the carriage and onto the dusty ground beneath it.
The coachman was already waiting for him, map in hand as he stood by the horses, feeding one of them something in his opposite hand.
“Why have we stopped?”
He accepted the map the moment it was handed over.
“Map says we continue on that way,” the coachman said, gesturing to the side, where a smaller path branched off into the forest, winding out of sight. “But the carriage can’t fit through it. Walking room only. I’d try, but I think we’d only end up in trouble. And I think the horses need a break, regardless.”
“Understood,” he said, absently, frowning down at the map as he registered the coachman was exactly right. “Thank you.”
Finally realizing the next steps were obvious, he sighed and rolled the map up, tying the ribbon and feather around it when the coachman offered them next. “I suppose we’ll be off, then,” he said, trying not to frown even harder. He almost wanted to steal away on the visit himself, leave both of them comfortably sleeping, but… that was both inadvisable and likely to only grant himself more scolding. From both of them, this time.
(And he would deserve it.)
Not to mention the distance from them would set his skin crawling.
So rather than that, Jupiter nodded shortly to the coachman. “Make sure the horses are well and rested,” he said, nodding towards them next, “we shouldn’t be more than a few hours at most.”
At least he hoped.
“Understood, sir.”
He took that response and ignored his own internal conflict to return to the carriage door, propping it open only to find that Erebus had already awoken, blue eyes burning into his. “Oh, good,” he drawled as he sat up, stretching with a yawn that made warm fondness spread in his chest. “I almost thought you’d try something.”
“Try something?”
He reached out and gently shook Saturn’s shoulder, keeping his eyes on Erebus even as he made soft protesting sounds and tried to fall back asleep. “Like going to this meeting yourself?” Erebus said, smirking when his lips pressed together. “Knew it. It’d be dumb—” Saturn’s eyes finally blinked open as he yawned and sat up, stretching the same as Erebus had. “—and you might be weirdly self-sacrificial, but you’re not dumb.”
Jupiter sighed, leaning back to stand upright, offering one hand to Erebus. “Well,” he said, “I appreciate you thinking I’m not dumb.”
He took his hand, the rough leather of the gloves he wore brushing against his own and reminding him of the accessory he’d recently taken up. (For his claws, perhaps? Erebus hadn’t mentioned.)
“Eh,” Erebus replied as he hopped down and released his hand, adjusting his cloak with a casual brush. “I like to think you’re smart.” He tipped his head to the side, eyes drifting up. “In most ways.” He sighed a second time, shaking his head with a smile even as he offered his hand yet again to a still-sleepy Saturn, allowing him to climb out onto the road.
He blinked several times, squinting faintly as he adjusted to the sunlight filtering through the trees.
“We’re here?” he asked, staring at the forest around them.
“Technically not,” Jupiter admitted, closing the carriage door and tapping at the map now tucked in his belt. His hand fell to the hilt of sword in an automatic motion. “It seems we have a bit of walking ahead of us. It wasn’t noted on the map, but this final trail is too small for a carriage.”
Saturn frowned. “How long?”
“Shorter than you had to walk on the adventure before this,” Erebus said, arms crossing over his chest. “Oh, wait. I flew you for most of that.” He shrugged when Saturn shot him the same exaggerated pout, nudging his shoulder with his own. “You’ll be fine.”
“And what if I wanted Jupi to carry me?”
Jupiter’s eyebrows lifted as he blinked, caught entirely off guard. He cleared his throat. “Ah… Saturn, I think—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Erebus reached out and knotted his fingers in Saturn’s sleeve, tugging him into walking. “How is Jupiter supposed to throw himself into battle and injury for us,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder, eyes bright with simultaneous challenge and amusement, “if he has to carry you the whole way?”
“Perhaps that’s the whole reason,” Saturn said, nose scrunching.
Jupiter just sighed a third time and hurried into step behind them with a crunch of leaves underfoot, one hand over the hilt of his sword. “Erebus is right,” he said, speeding up just a tad when they entered the properly-wooded area, only more concerned at the density of the green around them, enough to easily hide a person if needed. His shoulders hiked, brow furrowing as he swept his eyes all around. “I need to be ready to act at any moment.”
“Of course I’m right.”
Instead, he adjusted his grip on the map, fingers brushing its edge, reassuring himself it was still there and he could check it if needed. “Do either of you need the map?”
“No need,” Erebus said, vaguely waving one hand back to him. “I remember the path on it, and I’m pretty sure this should lead us straight where we need to be. Either that, or someone decided to randomly create a path worming through part of the forest for no reason at all. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Fun,” he repeated dryly. “Yes.”
“Glad we can agree on that.”
Saturn had looped his arm with Erebus’s and seemed happy enough to walk along next to him, eyeing both of them with a fondness that seeped through every inch of his expression. “So you recognize this place, then? Have you come here before?”
Erebus’s step faltered.
“No,” he said, brow furrowing. “Far as I remember, when I spoke to Sol… before, he was in the capital. I never left the city.” His mouth twitched in one corner, twisting into a faint frown before it wiped away. “Certainly made it easier to hide it, since I never had to travel.”
“I wish you hadn’t hidden it,” Saturn admitted sadly, frowning and tugging him closer. “I wish you’d come to us about it. We could have helped! At least a little bit.”
He didn’t seem to agree. “Or that could have ended with all three of us being dead,” Erebus said, clearly avoiding his gaze. “I think I prefer my way a bit more.”
You don’t know that, Jupiter wanted to stress to him, and even so…
A decade of missing and not knowing what he was missing made his heart ache even now that he had it—him—back. He knew the same was reflected for Saturn in the way he stared at Erebus with his lips pressed together sadly, brows pinched.
“Well,” he said, voice falsely cheery, “just know we won’t let that happen again. No deals needed!” He tugged Erebus closer with their looped arms, nearly tripping him. “Right?”
“…Right,” Erebus echoed, slowly. “No deals needed.”
Jupiter had a feeling he was only saying that to satisfy Saturn, the lack of any sort of promise making his heart ache. But any response either of them might have made was lost the moment someone stepped onto the path before them, and Jupiter immediately stepped forward, sword at the ready while Saturn and Erebus separated, allowing him between and ahead of them.
“Oh,” the person said, looking uncertain at the point of his sword, “Uh—”
Erebus abruptly laughed, pushing forward and pushing his sword down. “You’re Mercury, aren’t you?” he said, grinning crooked. “From the city?” Jupiter slowly let his sword fall the rest of the way, but he didn’t sheath it yet, keeping his eyes on Mercury as he nodded quickly.
“Sol’s assistant! I thought I’d… lead you the rest of the way?”
He took a step back. “But if you don’t want to, that’s fine!”
Shaking his head, Jupiter sighed, registering Saturn’s shoulder brushing against his as he joined Erebus at his side. “You startled me,” he said, fighting a frown. “Feel free to lead the way.” He would have been more guarded, but by now he’d learned to watch Erebus’s instinctual reaction at least a little, and he was completely relaxed even with Mercury still standing there. “How far?”
“Not that far,” Mercury said, rubbing one hand at the nape of his neck. “Probably a few minutes of walking?”
He turned on his heel and gestured for them to continue forward, and so after a moment Jupiter motioned for both Saturn and Erebus to follow, keeping his sword in hand and his footsteps close at their heels, his attention split between them and the forest all around. Mercury chattered on ahead about the area around them, about how this was only one of the temporary accommodations Sol had set up… everywhere, according to him.
(Stars, how had this escaped his attention before?)
By the time the trees broke and a small cottage rose in a clearing before them, he’d relaxed from his initial state of alarm, regardless keeping his sword free and ready. “Sol should be inside,” Mercury said, crossing his arms over his chest. He wore a simple bracelet, a blue gem protruding that caught his attention, recognition flaring in the back of his mind.
Why did that seem—
“Wow!”
His instincts lead him to react before he’d even fully caught the voice, sword raised and pointed directly at the heart of the person who’d stepped in front of Erebus, one open hand halfway to reaching for the gem at his chest. Erebus had taken a half-step back and looked like he’d seen a ghost, the color drained from his face as he stared at the tall-stars, how tall was he—man in front of him, free-flowing orangey-yellow hair glowing in the sunlight like it was bound to set aflame in moments.
“Ooh,” the man—undoubtedly Sol, based on everything he knew—beamed at him, knocking his sword down to point at the ground in one motion. “Very quick!” He hummed loudly and turned a moment later with a sharp, “Follow me!” that Jupiter almost swore echoed in the forest around them, repeating quieter each time.
Mercury coughed.
“I’d go,” he whispered.
Erebus shook his head violently and hurried after Sol, and Jupiter had to restrain his own instinct to grab his arm and restrain him, instead biting the inside of his cheek and exchanging an unsure glance with Saturn before motioning with a silent jerk of his head. By the time they both caught up, Sol was already at the door of the cottage, yanking it open and leaving Erebus to catch it as he hurried inside. Jupiter caught Erebus’s eyes and narrowed his, and he rolled his own before taking a step back to allow him to enter first.
His eyes swept over the entirety of the… almost too-normal seeming cottage, and when he spotted no obvious danger he finally relaxed, gesturing for Saturn and Erebus to come in after him where they were both lingering in the doorway. Mercury followed after them both, pulling the door shut with a click that echoed as loudly as Sol’s voice had.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Sol said, smiling at them with a grin that seemed less genuinely happy and more wild than anything. “I’ve been waiting!”
“Waiting…?” Erebus echoed, grimacing.
“You broke my blessing,” Sol said, smile dropping away into a far-flatter expression that made alarm rise in his chest. “When I was so nice to give it to you!”
“Blessing?” Saturn protested, taking a step forward before Jupiter stopped him. “That wasn’t a blessing, that was a curse!”
“Blessing!” Sol repeated, pointing a finger at him. “It’s a blessing! I only give blessings!” The honest fervor in his voice made Jupiter knock his boot against Saturn’s, shaking his head silently. “And Erebus asked for it, didn’t he?”
Erebus’s jaw clenched. “Yes,” he admitted, one hand rising to clutch tight at the gem on his chest. “But I didn’t break it for fun. It was already failing. Anything to say about that?” Whatever chill had fallen over him seemed to break as he cocked his head to the side, pupils narrowing into slits as he glared at Sol. “What sort of blessing falls apart a decade later?”
“Not mine,” Sol said, huffing with a frown. “It only broke because of that Cavrellean gem. I don’t know what you were thinking, getting that. You should know what they do, considering what you are.”
What?
Erebus blinked, anger melting away. “…Cav-what?”
“Cavrellean gem,” Sol repeated, shaking his head like it was stupid for them not to know. “That necklace you’re wearing! The giant gem?”
His eyes automatically fell to the gem in Erebus’s grip.
“That’s a… Cavrellean gem?” Saturn repeated, brow pinched in confusion. Jupiter could only feel the same. “How do you know that’s what that is?”
“Anyone with any bit of magical experience in the past hundred or so years would know that,” Sol said, arching his eyebrows. “They all look a certain way.”
(…How old was he?)
“It’s a type of magical gem. Not many down here in Kairos, though. Where’d you get that one?” Jupiter almost felt like he was getting whiplash, the anger and derision in Sol’s voice fading as quickly as it’d appeared. Sol didn’t even give Erebus a chance to answer. “Of course my blessing faded, what with the conflicting magic in the gem and your mind. You were already weakening it with how conflicted you were.” He frowned, arms crossing. “Regret isn’t a very good source for magic, you know. You couldn’t be happy?”
Erebus rolled his eyes. “Stars above,” he said under his breath. “Sorry I couldn’t be happy when I’d lost all my memory and felt an aching emptiness no matter what?”
“Apology accepted!”
The disbelieving expression that flashed over Erebus’s face could have made him laugh in a less tension-filled moment.
“The blessing could have stuck if it was the only magic you were fueling, but…” Jupiter’s eyes widened as Sol was abruptly right in front of them, one hand wrapped around Erebus’s gem like he’d intended to do before, studying the glow in his hand. “This pulled too much. It started to falter. Not my fault at all!” He’d barely raised the sword before Sol let it go, stepping clear out of range. “Those gems are already sensitive enough. You—”
“For the love of every star in the sky,” Erebus said, eye twitching, “could you please be a bit clearer? I don’t know what a stupid Cavrellean gem is!”
Sol squinted at him. “Really? Not at all?”
He seemed almost genuinely confused; and Jupiter could only feel the same way, hand tightening around the hilt of his sword as he clenched his jaw.
“No,” Erebus said, grabbing the gem and lifting it, “I just went for this because—” He faltered. “I went for it because…” Jupiter desperately wanted to know what he was thinking as he stared down at it, brows pinching tight. “I don’t know. I just felt like I needed it,” he finally admitted. “I don’t even remember where I got it from, just that I had to steal it.”
“Of course you did,” Sol said, waving one hand. “Nobody smart would just let a Cavrellean gem go, especially one with an untapped blessing!” He made a low sound. “That must have been a powerful one they couldn’t activate. I suppose it makes sense that you could, considering what you are.”
“Wow,” Erebus said, clearly frustrated, “Could you be any vaguer?”
Sol tipped his head to the side. “I guess so,” he said, dubiously. “Didn’t you just tell me to be clearer?”
“I was being sarcastic!”
Erebus turned and buried his head in his hands, groaning quietly; and rather than let him continue frustrating himself, Saturn finally roused, pressing one hand against his shoulder as he said, “I’m—Apologies? Could you explain it like we know nothing at all? I certainly do.” His smile seemed weak to Jupiter, but Sol accepted it easily, beaming wildly in answer.
“Okay!”
But Sol didn’t say anything after that, just stared at them.
Behind him, Mercury coughed. “You need to ask him,” he muttered. “He won’t explain anything unless you ask.”
Flashing him a grateful glance, Jupiter took the initiative that time.
“What do you mean considering what Erebus is?”
Sol hummed. “Well, considering he’s from Tenebrae, he already had an advantage. But the fact that he’s technically made of magic didn’t hurt!”
…
…
“…What?” Erebus screeched. “I’m what?!”
“Made of magic,” Sol repeated, still smiling. “You aren’t entirely human! Like… like something in-between,” he added, tilting one raised hand from side-to-side. “I’m not sure how Tenebrae did it, but it’s the only reason I knew the blessing I gave you would work. Normally it’d take far too much, but you were naturally replenishing the whole thing with your own magic! So ingenious of me.”
“I’m not entirely human?”
Erebus didn’t sound like he believed the words he was repeating, and frankly Jupiter had to sympathize. That sounded… impossible.
“You really think just anyone can do a memory-erasing spell to that level?” Sol blinked at them. “Not just a group of people, but almost… everyone close to you? That’d kill any normal person. It’s just too much. But you’re special!” He threw his hands out. “It’s the only reason I let you find me.” He frowned. “I swear I mentioned it to you before, but I must have erased that memory on accident. Oops.”
“Oops,” Erebus echoed, sounding on the verge of a breakdown.
“Anyway, once you started feeding the Cavrellean gem—which you don’t really need to, those aren’t made for that—your magic, the source for my blessing cut off. The more the gem took, the less the blessing had, until it was weak enough to break completely.” He sighed theatrically. “Ruining my hard work.”
“So this is… a Cavrellean gem?” Jupiter asked, testing the word in his mouth.
Sol nodded roughly. “They were popular for their use in magic until people realized how dangerous they were. What a shame. I liked when they were spread all over. Now they’re so rare, especially in chunks like that.” He gained an almost predatory look in his eyes. “It’s the reason Mercury’s my assistant! He’s useful. Mercury, show them!”
“W-What?” Mercury took a step backwards, blinking at them and smiling awkwardly when Jupiter half-turned to look at him. “In here?”
Was… Was Mercury somehow able to become a dragon like Erebus?
Surely not, otherwise Sol would have forced them outside. At least he hoped so.
“Show them!”
Mercury’s shoulders slumped. “Alright,” he said, “fine. Step back?”
Jupiter did exactly that, careful to keep track of both Saturn and Erebus on either side of him; though he knew Erebus wasn’t looking up at Mercury but rather staring at the gem, his face pale and expression unreadable.
Stars, what was he thinking?
He startled when a loud rustling sound filled the room, gaze darting up only to find Mercury with… a giant pair of feathered wings rising behind him? He wore the same awkward smile, holding onto the bracelet he’d been wearing before. “My gem gives me… uh, these.” He frowned. “Well technically, the spell gave me them. The gem helps suppress them, which is why I have to take this off for them to show.” Mercury glanced up, adding, “And I can fly with them,” in a much more excited tone. “They’re magic.”
“Why don’t you turn into a bird?”
Jupiter glanced at Erebus, who stared at Mercury with a half-scowl, his eyes narrowed.
“…Turn into a bird?” he repeated, confused. “Why would that happen?”
“This damn thing turns me into a dragon when I take it off,” Erebus said, yanking at the gem. “A dragon. It doesn’t give me the wings, it turns me into a whole—”
“Fascinating!”
Jupiter threw his hand out and forced Erebus back as Sol abruptly appeared in front of them, staring at Erebus with the same wild grin, his eyes equally crazy. “It’s that powerful? Can I see?” He reached out as if about to yank the necklace off, and immediately Jupiter stepped fully in front of Erebus, pushing his hand away as Sol frowned in annoyance at him. “So rude!”
“It’s broken,” he said, trying to keep the anger from his tone, “and even if it wasn’t, he’s bigger than this room. He’d destroy it.”
“Wow,” Erebus scoffed behind him. “No faith in me.”
“It’s… broken?” Sol repeated. “How?”
“There’s a stars-damned crack in it,” Erebus said, shoving him aside even as he tried to stay in place. “That’s how. Look. It means the thing kills me if I take it off and try to turn into my dragon form.” He kept the gem enclosed tightly in his hand but flashed it in Sol’s direction, showing off the crack in it, that even now made his throat close up, his chest heavy. “This guy stole it from me and—”
“He tried to kill you?” Sol cocked his head to the other side.
Scowling, Erebus hid the gem beneath his cloak. “Tried and failed,” he scoffed.
“No. Tried and succeeded!” Sol corrected, looking like he’d found the greatest treasure of all. “The Cavrellean gem absorbed the fatal blow. It should have been destroyed completely, judging by that crack, but I guess the magic you unintentionally fed it kept it together. So it just… cracked.” He smiled again, eyes wide and crazy. “Fascinating!”
Jupiter almost swore his ears were ringing.
“Succeeded?” he repeated, echoed by Saturn.
“Cavrellean gems are super sensitive,” Sol said, waving a finger in their direction. “And they can be useful or very, very dangerous. It’s not a very clear line!” He started forward, and instinctively Jupiter once again shoved both Saturn and Erebus back, keeping them away as he hurried past them. “When their user is dealt a fatal blow, there’s a sensitive little point where the gems can absorb it and shatter. You lose the magic blessing attached to it, but you’re still alive! Downside is if it’s not in that special little point, they tend to absorb it and then… let it go at a random point afterward. So you still die! Just a little bit later. Was a nasty surprise for the first few users.”
He practically giggled.
Jupiter thought he’d keel over unconscious on the spot from confusion.
Stars, this was all too much.
“But if it shatters when it’s that point, then wouldn’t it be obvious when it’s gone wrong?” Saturn questioned, sounding as stable as he felt. (Not at all). “Wouldn’t you just separate yourself from the gem, or give it to someone else to take the blow?”
“Ooh,” Sol said, laughing high, “Cold! But nope. The blessing in a Cavrellean gem is temperamental! The person it’s attached to can’t transfer it to another person while they’re alive. That can only be done after death. And if the gem is transferred after death… well, the lovely blessing attached tends to be a little broken.” He laughed a second time, even as Jupiter could only register more horror rising and ballooning in his chest. “It made them a little less useful given time, so most people won’t have heard of them now. It was mostly the upper classes that had the chance to use them, and even then, only in Tenebrae, really. Considering that’s where all the gems come from. There were a few families up in that area whose living centered around them.” He blinked. “Not sure where they went, but there haven’t been any new Cavrellean gems made, far as I know.”
“Is… Is that why I felt like this one called to me?”
Mercury drew their attention with a rustle of his wings. “Not really,” he said slowly, shrugging and gently sliding the bracelet on his arm so they could watch the wings disappear, there one moment and gone the next… though a few feathers remained, drifting slowly along the ground. “It might be that the gem chose you, though. Magic is…” He grimaced. “A bit weird.”
“A bit weird,” Erebus echoed, giving a strained laugh. “Fuck. And I’m made of it?!”
“Like I said,” Sol said, “Fascinating! That gem is broken, though. That it’s just cracked and not shattered… well, I think you would probably die soon.” He paused. “Or maybe not. You said it kills you if you take it off?”
Jupiter nodded when he glanced towards him as if question, breath caught in his throat.
“Oh, then yes! You’ll die soon enough,” Sol said, cheerily, as if the words didn’t make his heart squeeze tight, Saturn’s hands wrapping around his arm as he gave a dismayed inhale. “That damage is all stuck there in the gem. You might’ve even caused this!”
Stars.
He felt faint.
“And I wouldn’t take it off,” Sol continued, “or you’ll just die quicker. I think it’s keeping you alive and killing you. How funny. The dragon characteristics must be showing through even clearer because of that. The gem is failing at suppressing it as well as it did before—”
Erebus interrupted him. “These scales showed through even before the gem broke.”
“But have they been growing?”
The look on Erebus’s face must have answered him. “See? It’ll only get worse from here.”
Jupiter wasn’t sure it was worth the smile Sol wore when apparently it meant Erebus’s life was on the line. “How do we fix it?” he demanded, turning on his heel to refocus completely on Sol. “There has to be a way, yes? Can you do it? Fix the gem?”
Sol blinked. “Do you think I’m a miracle worker? Of course not!”
He ignored the quickly-growing lump in his throat, rubbing one hand at his jawline and ignoring the prickle of his stubble as dismay swamped him over.
“But there is one way to fix it.”
The breath rushed out of him in dizzying relief, and beside him Saturn cried out, “You couldn’t have started with that?!”
Jupiter sheathed his sword and pressed his hands together in a pleading pose.
“How?” he pleaded.
He’d do anything at this point. He really couldn’t—
“You have to shatter that gem,” Sol said—and he could practically hear the sound of Erebus’s glove tightening around it, “but you have to have a pure replacement gem ready for the blessing to transfer into. Those are only found up in the caves where Tenebrae used to be. What’s it now? Anemoi or something? And they can only be shattered by a perfect killing blow, or…”
Jupiter was so mired in his own thoughts that he barely reacted enough to grab at the hilt of his sword when Sol darted forward, grabbing the gem—yanking Erebus forward with the force of it—and yanking a dagger from his side. Pure alarm swept over him as he watched him stab for the gem, and he was seconds from reaching out and bodily shoving Sol away before it glanced off the surface of the gem, harmlessly clattering to the ground. “Or by a Cavrellean blade!”
He finally gained the ability to move, pulling Erebus behind him; he barely even reacted, seemingly stuck in his own mind, his eyes wide and lost.
“A Cavrellean blade,” he repeated, voice raspy. “What’s that?”
“It’s a gem fashioned into a blade,” Sol said, giving him a look like that was obvious. “It takes as much work as you’d expect, so there’s only a few of them.” His eyes glinted orange. “Lucky for you,” he turned around, hurrying over to a desk, yanking one drawer open and digging deep within it—deeper than should be possible, his entire forearm fitting in a drawer that appeared no deeper than his hand from the outside—only to emerge with a dangerous-looking dagger that glowed the same ominous blue as Erebus’s gem tended to. “I have one. See?”
“If… if that was fashioned from a gem,” he asked, mind racing, “why can’t we use it as the replacement for this broken one?”
“Interesting thought,” Sol said, pointing the dagger straight at him. “But nope! Wouldn’t work. You need a pure, unaffected gem from the source. And you’ll need this to break it off, because they grow together in giant clusters. Isn’t that fun?”
Saturn leaned around him, hesitantly asking, “Could we possibly… borrow the dagger?”
Sol grinned, the look more menacing than anything.
“Of course you can! For a price.”
“A price?” Jupiter took a subtle step back.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Prince Saturn,” Sol said, letting the dagger dangle from two fingers. “In exchange for this.”
“That’s all?” Saturn stepped forward, head held high. “Then—”
“Then no!” Jupiter startled as cold hand wrapped around his wrist, and Saturn looked the same; and he looked back just in time for Erebus to start dragging them bodily towards the door, shouting back towards Sol, “That’s a no! We’ll be leaving.” He released his wrist only to yank the door open, dragging Saturn through with him even as he protested, fighting against the grip.
Jupiter glanced at Mercury, who just grimaced, looking away.
“Are you sure about that?”
Erebus shot him a glance from outside, fangs bared as he held back Saturn, who seemed seconds from breaking free and running back inside. “Jupiter,” he demanded. “Get out here. Don’t say anything to him.”
“Rude,” Sol complained—but if he said anything else, Jupiter was unable to hear it as he stepped outside, and the door slammed shut behind him so loudly he jumped in surprise despite himself.
“We’re going back to the carriage,” Erebus said, gritting his teeth together. “Now.”
“Erebus, you know I wouldn’t mind,” Saturn said, clasping his hands together and staring at him desperately. “I’ve give up my entire kingdom, my entire life if it meant—”
“That’s exactly what I thought back then,” he snapped, “and that turned out to be the wrong answer, didn’t it?”
Saturn’s shoulders slumped, his jaw trembling as his eyes glittered with obvious tears.
“Erebus,” he whispered. “Please.”
Jupiter wasn’t even sure what to say, every word caught in his throat behind a growing lump of pure dismay. He understood Saturn’s devastation—he’d give up anything himself—and just as easily understood Erebus’s strict denial, far too aware of the horrible hand they’d been dealt following the deal Erebus had made with Sol.
“We’ll figure it out another way,” Erebus muttered. “Without making another stars-damned deal with a witch.”
He strode off a second later, heading straight for the path they’d followed earlier, and Jupiter could only exchange an equally-horrified look with Saturn before wrapping an arm around his back and urging him forward. “We will,” he said, determined, thoughts already racing. “There has to be another way.”
“I’ll—” Saturn’s breath hitched. “I’ll ask the princes of the Northern Kingdom. Of Anemoi. Surely, they’ll know something? If the gems come from there?” A tear dripped down one cheek even as the determination in his eyes hardened, and Jupiter swore he felt his heart simultaneously break and wash over with fondness. “Perhaps they’ll have a dagger, or—or a pure gem. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll get it.”
Their eyes met as he glanced up, and then they both glanced forward, to Erebus’s hunched and stiff form.
“And you know I’m at your beck and call for anything,” he said, fighting a frown. “At all.”
Saturn leaned to the side, stumbling into him even as they kept walking. “Thank you, darling,” he said, swiping away another tear on his cheek. “Oh, I just can’t believe—”
“Wait! Wait!”
The familiar voice made him pause, turning and stepping in front of Saturn as he drew his sword, narrowing his eyes at Mercury, who stumbled and put his hands up. “I wanted to help you!” He sighed in relief when Jupiter slowly dropped his sword, sensing the truth in his statement. “Sol can be—alright, he can be an asshole,” he said, coughing. “So I wanted to give you a little more information. You might be able to…” His eyes darted to the side. “Use it.”
“You will?”
Saturn sounded seconds from breaking down into tears a second time—which seemed to shock Mercury judging by his repeated blinking. “Uh. Yeah? There should be more information on the gems in the palace’s library up in the Northern Kingdom. The archives there would have everything you need. That was the palace for Tenebrae, after all. Unless Anemoi decided to burn everything up, everything that Tenebrae learned about the gems should still be there.” He grimaced. “But that’s all I know.”
Jupiter pressed his lips together. “You wouldn’t happen to have another dagger?”
He knew it was unlikely, but still disappointment flashed in his heart when Mercury shook his head.
“Perhaps there’s one in the palace?” he said, weakly. “I just thought—I wanted to let you know that.”
“Oh, thank you,” Saturn burst out, lunging forward to hug him as Jupiter reacted a second too late to stop him. “Thank you!”
Mercury’s shoulders hiked up, his hands hovering in the air until Saturn stepped back, returning to his side and letting him relax just a tad more. “You’re… welcome? I hope you figure it out.” Before any of them could say anything else, he turned and darted away much faster than Jupiter expected, out of sight within a few seconds.
He exhaled roughly, feeling like he needed a day to recover from that.
“Well,” Erebus said, making him and Saturn both pivot to face him. “I guess we’re going to the Northern Kingdom.” He didn’t seem happy at all, scowling down at the ground instead of meeting their eyes. “What fun.”