Troilus came home. He sat on the steps of his ruined home, everything so lost to time, the thousand years he'd lain asleep on his bed as it all decayed around him. The weight of it aged him internally the way he hadn't externally, perfectly preserved like the Earth tale of Sleeping Beauty.

Except he'd had his perfect prince before he slept, and woke to a world where he was dead and gone, along with their son. He couldn't bring himself to go inside. Not when he'd sat on this very steps with another man. A man that he was finding himself liking more and more as time went on.

But Taran and Seiche had been his everything before. He would've burned the universe down for them. So why, why was he acting like this? Deep down, he would've traded the world to see them again one last time. And yet here he was, trying not to blush at the idea of Isidor kissing him... Of Isidor using his desk in a way not meant for desks....

He covered his face and groaned loudly, the force of it rising the longer it went on until it became a full-throated yell, kicking his feet and punching at the air.

"What is WRONG with me?!" he screamed into the unforgiving sky. "Why am I already moving on?! It's barely been six months!"

Groaning, he slumped over his knees, curling and uncurling his fingers. He felt exhausted with himself. He didn't know how to feel. What to do. Slowly, he looked up again, and caught sight of the mountain. The one they used for the silly love trial for the senshi. The one Taran had had to climb to retrieve a single T'luck flower. The only flower that grew on T'luck mountain. He remembered as though it were yesterday, the day Taran had come back down it, stumbling, out of breath, clutching the flower like his life depended on it, and falling right into Imnolu's arms with a giddy laugh.

They'd celebrated all night, first with a party for the entire world, it seemed like, and then, alone, with wine and privacy and a bed that hadn't seen much sleep that night, not until the first rays of dawn had begun to break through the night and light up the northern sky.

Wetness dripped down his face and he realized he was crying. He hugged himself, leaning on the pillar that his sweet son had drawn on when he was seven or so. Their little family. He trailed his fingers over it as he let out ungodly sobs, then pressed a gentle little kiss to it before he pulled away. Eventually, he tired out and lay across one of the steps, trembling and aching with the force of his emotions.

They were gone. They weren't coming back. Perhaps not even reincarnated. He'd never know. And if he did, he doubted it would go well. They'd have new families in this life. He had to let them go.

Maybe it would be okay to move on. To seek what he already knew was building between himself and Isidor. A man whose life he'd saved. A man who intrigued him. A man that he really, really wanted to kiss.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as he sat up, turning to look back at the house he hadn't entered since leaving for Earth. "I hope you've found peace. I'm... I'm going to try, my loves. The world said it still needed me. So I'll soldier on. But I can't... I can't not live my life. I hope you understand."

Silence. Of course. He hadn't expected anything else. But he felt lighter. Happier.

More like he could walk into Isidor's office and kiss him full on the mouth without regret.

Maybe that's what he would do.