(3539 words)
When Crims dies, he falls before his wonder with a sword in his chest and blood dripping from his mouth. His last thought is I am a rebel-made king but his last breath is a two-syllable word, “Ahe.” The entirety of his life flashes before his life in a series of fragmented memories that do not come in order but rather relevance and emotions.
The day Crims arrives on Thrymr it is a bright and sunny day with calm waves lapping at the shores. It is one of the squire’s first envoys since his received rank. He is brimming with idle energy, barely containing himself and his desire to sprint across the moon and explore everything it has to offer. He is one of the youngest squires among the envoy and the senshi of the moon is waiting at the dock with an attendant by their side.
The clothing they’re wearing is loose and shapeless, the color of sunsets melted across the fabric, with gold jewelry decorating slender wrists and neck, and their hair cascades down their back with braids twisted here and there in intricate manners.
Crims catches their eye almost immediately, hazel meeting blue, and he tilts his head questioningly. The senshi is beautiful, with soft features, colorful eyes and stark white hair that reminds him of the snow back home, but there is something-- it’s the way they look at him, how they smile politely but reservedly --that he feels reflects back at him.
Looking at them gives him a sense of looking at himself and it makes his mouth dry up, his heart hammering at his ribs in an off-beat manner.
It drives him forward, causes him to push past his fellow knights and to the front of the line-- much to the annoyance of his higher ranking brethren. He thrusts his hand out to shake when he introduces himself, “I am Crims.”
The senshi smile broadens slightly as they slide their much smaller hand into his. “I am Thrymr, welcome to my home.”
If he’s a little obsessed with occupying their time during the visit well-- he doesn’t regret it.
The strike of the blade is smoother than he expects, though he should have seen it coming with how jaded Marmoreal is, and it slides in cleaning between his shoulder blade and through one of the slots of space between his ribs. He can only manage to gasp as blood fills his lungs, the knight behind him panting in his ear.
He is not ready for death, but the grim reaper is standing in the edges of his vision waiting with outstretched arms. His thoughts are a swirl of a repeated name, Ahe, Ahe, Ahe.
It takes him far longer than he’d like to admit to realize that Thrymr is gender-fluid and not strictly male.
He first realizes it when conversing with their attendant Heli during one of the rare visits where Thrymr cannot be bothered, even for good friends. A ceremony is around the corner and the dance must be practiced and perfected. It is disappointing to the young squire, but he understands and thinks he might be content to chatter away to Heli instead.
Heli keeps referring to Thrymr as they and he is utterly confused until he sees the senshi next and has to ask.
“Heli refers to you as they whenever you are not around, I don’t understand --?” The question is asked hesitantly and Crims’ cheeks are tinted red with embarrassment.
Thrymr, who has become rather fond of the knight, smiles and laughs pleasantly when they say, “I am genderfluid my dear Crims. It is what I prefer.”
He looks a little dumbstruck as he looks at them, but it all slots into place in the matter of seconds and a breathless, “oh,” escapes him. Then, he’s grinning lopsidedly at them, scratching at the back of his head. “Okay, they it is.”
It’s that simple, they are that simple.
“You endangered us all with your selfishness,” Marmoreal hisses in Crims’ ear, throwing his weight into the sword until there is no doubt that the blow is lethal. It takes considerable effort to pull it free, the point catching and tearing his lungs when it comes loose and his knees give out, hit the pavement before steps to the door of his castle.
The next few memories flash by too quickly for him to grasp them.
Meeting Iris at the circus.
Meeting Elu as a child, when he fell out of a tree trying to make her laugh. Iris and her circus.
Iris on Pomona, the hand-walking competition, the accidental peeping-tom debacle. The jokes at the tavern. Time spent with his best friend.
Visiting Iris’ homeworld and the pink clothing she’d bartered for, the ones he kept in a trunk at the foot of his bed in the castle. The last time he’d worn them was the day after she saved his life.
Visiting Denebola and reuniting with Elu-- the happiness that’d filled him at the sight of her. The raid and chaos that followed. The righteous fury that filled him, that spurred him forward.
The day he received his full knighthood and the hollow pride that came with it, how he slipped away the very same night with his meager belongings.
The first letter to Ahe after he disappeared and the first response.
The failed attempts at finding Elu, but the elated, thankful faces of all of those he saved instead.
His lungs fill with the copper liquid and all he can taste is metal in his mouth as his body careens forward, hands futile shooting out in an attempt to catch himself. His palms scrape against the rough stone steps and bleed. It does not hurt.
Death is painless, Crims realizes.
Crims and Ahe sitting on the beach, shoes discarded and feet buried in the sand. They are sitting close, mere centimeters of space between them with Crims leaning back, hands splayed behind him beneath the sand and Thrymr with their feet tucked beneath them and delicate hands in their lap.
It’s the most peaceful the squire has felt since he learned he was Crims and not Tarren.
(He wishes he was just Tarren more often than not, but with Thrymr-- he doesn’t mind being Crims instead.)
The waves are calm and peaceful, perfect for the mood even as the sky begins to darken. Thrymr is watching the waves and Crims is too, except he finds that he keeps glancing at his companion out of the corner of his eye.
Their conversation has drifted to an end but the silence that settles around them is comfortable, easy, and he cannot think of another person he’d like to spend time with like this.
This would be too easy to get used to, he thinks idly, eyes tracing the shape of their face, the soft curve of their jaw, and the length of their slender neck. I have never seen someone so beautiful, is his next thought before he is caught staring. His cheeks burn red but Thrymr smiles easily at him and he cannot help but smile sloppily back.
That slanted grin full of fondness is reserved for special people, the ones who have wormed their way into his heart despite his reserved nature. It is one for only Thrymr, Iris, and Denebola.
“A token for your thoughts dearest Crims?” They ask and he shakes his head in return.
“I was just thinking about how peaceful it is here,” he lies, the off-beat thumping of his heart too loud in his ears. “You’re rather amazing, you know that right?”
Thrymr laughs, reaching for the hand closest to them, unburying it and lacing their fingers together. “I am only as amazing as the company I keep,” they counter, looking at him with such fondness that he thinks his heart might burst.
If he spends too many nights after thinking about how perfectly their hand fit in his, he doesn’t admit it.
“I-- I do not r-regret--” Crims wheezes, words coming out in stuttered gasps as his fingers grapple at the steps. Black dots are swarming his vision and things keep blurring around him. The world is spinning and all he can think is Ahe, Ahe, Ahe. “M-my c-choices.”
“You are a disgrace,” his killer hisses. “Perhaps the next knight of Crims will not be such a failure.
Crims blinks and the world shifts back into memories.
He is deftly braiding long strands of white into an intricate braid-- one that is a mix of a dutch braid and a fishtail. He keeps glancing up at the mirror subtly, taking time to appreciate the robes adorning his companion and the skin it exposes. When he thinks that he might be caught, he returns to focusing on the braid and the idle conversation that is passing between them.
“I do not keep many close, but I like to think I keep you close,” he admits, sheepish.
“You may keep me as close as you like, I am glad of it,” they respond and it sets his heart beating off-tempo and he has to swallow dryly to keep his excitement down. He has to take a moment to remind himself that it is just a comment, Thrymr cares about him greatly.
He just wants them to care in a different way, but feels that it is too selfish to ask.
“I'll probably keep you rather close then, of course it depends on how close you'd like to be kept,” he teases later.
"As close as you'll have me, good sir," they reply and something coils unpleasantly in his stomach. It does not mean what he wants, he shouldn’t get his hopes up-- he does anyway.
So, when they are standing and the space between them dwindles Crims struggles to keep his eyes from straying to their lips, to fight the urge to put his hands on their waist and slot his mouth against theirs.
“I’ll steal you away,” he promises, leaning into the gentle hand on his cheek.
“I would be glad to be stolen away by you,” they tell him and he cannot help the way his heartaches.
It does not mean the things he wants it to mean.
But then--
He kisses their forehead, their cheek because he is too weak to resist. “Keep me in your orbit, okay?” he begs because he cannot bear to think of a life without the beautiful, sweet, loving senshi in his life.
Crims has never wanted, needed something so desperately in his life before, but he thinks it’s alright if it’s Thrymr.
“You already are,” they tell him and a smile starts to stretch across his face when suddenly, they’re leaning forward and their mouth is on his. Surprise takes his breath away, but he pulls them closer, hands snaking to the nape of their neck. He kisses them, hard, trying to pour all of his pent up, hidden feelings into the kiss, with a n** at their lip when he does pull away.
“Thrymr, you tempt me,” he breathes, face burrowing into the crook of their neck.
“Ahe. Call - call me Ahe.”
“If you like, you could call me Tarren.”
From then on they are not Crims and Thrymr, but Ahe and Tarren, and the knowledge makes his heart want to burst with happiness. Never, not in his wildest dreams had he thought that the senshi might want him back.
That the might want him back.
He could drown in their kisses if the universe would let him.
When the memories fade and the steps of Crims return, Marmoreal is gone and the knight is alone. His summon shimmers into existence beside him, cawing at him in disgust. He reaches for the bird that hops out of reach, something on a gold chain grasped tightly in his hand.
“I n-need--” he croaks, body shaking when he falls victim to a coughing fit. Blood splatters across the stone and his lavender uniform is soaked in blood. “G-give this to Ahe,” he manages, grip on the pocket watch softening, the metal clattering against the step when the rest of his strength gives out. He falls forward, cheek scraping against the rough stone surface.
”I think I might love you, Ahe. I’m quite certain I am in love,” he whispers as he presses light kisses against their lips. It is a terrifying admission, one he did not think himself capable of but it feels right in ways he does not fully comprehend and he cannot deny the truth of the words when he says them.
The way Ahe responds in kind send shivers down his spine and a pool of heat straight to his belly.
“Please, my Tarren, I’m in love with you, I love you, - “ they gasped with tears rolling down their cheeks.
Tarren spends time kissing away the tears, kissing every part of their face until his mouth found theirs and he kissed them again, desperate to show how much he loved them.
“I am yours to do with whatever you see fit. I may not always be able to stay with you, but I will always return to you. I swear to you, that no matter the distance and the trials, I will come home to you. I swear upon everything that I am,Tarren, the man beneath the knight and the name of my wonder, Crims.” Tarren makes a binding oath without thinking twice about it, voice strong and sure.
Ahe swears their own oath to him in return and Tarren thinks he might burst from how much he loves his partner.
“Please - please come home to me, I could not bear to lose you, dearest of men, I swear to you that this - that I will always be your home to return to. I swear to you - I - swear - to you - As Ahe, and as Thrymr, Tarren, Knight of Crims - I will always - be your home to return to.”
The oaths are followed by so many sweet words and a night of desire, longing, need so great Tarren doesn’t know how he convinces himself to leave in the morning when he has to.
But duty calls and he does what he must, even if his heart breaks a little as a result.
“As you wish Tarren of Crims,” the raven responds, pulling the chain free delicately with it’ beak.
“N-not Tarren of Crims,” he stuttered, the rise and fall of his chest slowing as the breaks between his breaths falters. “T-tarren of T-thrymr.”
His summon clucks in disapproval, shaking it’s head before, “forgive me, Tarren of Thrymr.”
There are many sides of Ahe that Tarren finds absolutely breathtaking;
When they dance, they are so graceful he cannot look away.
When they are sweaty and wiggling beneath them, he is with an insatiable hunger.
When they are curled up in his lap, he cannot think of anywhere else he would rather be.
Sitting on the beaches of Thrymr, watching the waves lap at the sandy shore, recounting the days that have passed without each other wistfully-- it always reminds Tarren of the first day realized he was a ship and Ahe was the siren who sank him.
(Tarren could never regret drowning in the waters that were Ahe’s love.)
Days spent on Southern Lights, Tarren’s favorite ship named after his senshi and their people, with his arms wrapped around their waist, chin on their shoulder, watching asteroids and meteors pass by as they explore the universe.
The Gala where Ahe and Tarren dress to match and try to stay collected, reserved but want nothing more than to sneak off and be alone.
Ahe always takes his breath away.
“You realize that no one will inform them,” the raven says coolly, head cocking as it looks at it’s knight with pity.
“Y-you must,” Crims begs, tears pooling in his eyes as they flutter close. His strength is waning, his vision darkening, and his body weak. He has lost too much blood and there is no one to save him this time.
“I cannot leave Crims,” his summon huffs irritably.
“T-then, when they come,” he begs.
“I promise nothing,” it refutes.
”Tarren! Put me down!” Ahe shrieks.
“Never,” Tarren declares.
“You are my heart and soul,” says Tarren, kissing Ahe like they were the air he needed to breath. “And I will love you through this life time and all the others, if you will let me.”
“I will love you always, Tarren, not of Crims, but of Thrymr,” answers Ahe, stretching on to their tip toes so they can drown in his kisses.
“All of this,” Tarren tells them, gesturing to the purple castle that makes up his wonder, “I dedicate to you, my heart.”
“It is beautiful,” Ahe murmurs, tucking themselves against his side with his arm strung across their shoulder and theirs wrapped around his waist.
“Just like you,” he says, pressing a kiss to their hair.
“Ahe I-- I went back and I don’t ---” there’s panic in his voice when he bursts into the Inner Sanctum.
“Tarren--” Ahe is surprised but still pleased to see their lover. “What -- what’s wrong?”
“I returned to Crims.” Tarren’s entire body sags when they come over and envelope him in their arms. “I go to trial in three days. Will you -- will you come?”
“Of course,” the reply is immediate, automatic like he expects. They will be wherever he needs them.
“Okay.”
Tarren breathes easier that night when he’s tangled with Ahe.
“You can’t leave Crims--”
“I don’t care, they cannot keep me from you. I will find a way to--”
“I need you safe. I can’t lose you.”
“You could never lose me, I am yours.”
“Just-- be careful.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were attacked?”
“I didn’t want you to worry, besides it was nothing.”
“It’s not nothing Tarren. You could have died.”
”But I didn’t, Iris saved me.”
“What if she isn’t there next time.”
“There won’t be a next time, I’ll handle it. I promise.”
The last memory makes him laugh, a gurgling sound that isn’t much of a laugh at all and he ends up coughing, sputtering blood every where while his summon sighs, nestles next to him. “Just-- hold on, until they come. G-give them the le-letter and l-locket.” Speaking at all grows harder and harder as he bleeds out, no one rushing to his aid.
He wonders how long before someone finds his body on the steps of his wonder then, he wonders who will care about his passing.
Ahe. Iris. Elu. Altais. Chesh, Mouse, Blanc, Hare, and the rest of the crew. The people who are indebted to him. Heli.
“I will try, but until Crims of Saturn returns I do not know how long I will last.”
“T-try.”
Their last night together, before he is forced to return to Crims lest his abscence be noted and the visits have to stop all together, is beautiful day just like the very first day they met. The sun is shining and the weather lovely. They meet on the docks because Ahe is eager to see him, too much time has passed between visits.
“Tarren!” Ahe cries, launching into his arms immediately.
The knight laughs, wraps strong arms around them and lift them into the air, twirling them around before peppering their faces with kisses. “Ahe,” he murmurs breathlessly in their ear, “how I have missed you my heart.”
“And I you my love,” Ahe replies kissing him soft and sweet. Their hands slide into his like they have a thousand times before and they lead him off the docks and towards the High Sanctum. “Come, it has been so long and I --” their cheeks flush and they look up shyly at him.
“Of course,” Tarren grins mischievously in response. He leans in, voice low and raspy when he says, “I can’t wait to eat you up.”
It doesn’t even occur to him that this could be the last time he see them.
When they part, he kisses them long and deep with, “I love you,” instead of good-bye.
It’s not the ending he wanted for them, but life has never been easy for the knight and he thinks that, maybe, it’s as good as it’ll get for him this life time.
In many ways, Crims is grateful that Ahe is not there to see him perish because he could never stand to see them cry and in many other ways he laments that he does not get to die while being able to see their lovely face.
“Tell them-- M-may w-we meet ag-again A-Ahe,” Crims instructs the light dimming from his eyes as the final syllable leaves his mouth. His entire life flashes before his eyes one last time and he thinks I am a rebel made king before the world goes dark while his heart beats out.
