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Alaris could remember the years before everything went wrong.
They’d all been so happy, friends fighting for a grand purpose. Each of them had been horribly broken, of course, hurt by the cruel world they were trapped in. But they were going to fix it, put everything back the way it should be.
And until then, the Venerate knew they had each other.
Alaris walked into the clearing and grinned. He was the last to arrive, the other ten already gathered around the campfire. Isiliar was animatedly telling a story to Tysis and Meldier, grinning as she made elaborate gestures. Cyr was busy scribbling some notes, Asar reading over his shoulder. And then of course, there was Tal.
His head rested in Diara’s lap while she fiddled with his hair, both of them laughing at some joke being told by Andrael – who was himself half draped across Tal’s body. It took a moment for Tal to notice Alaris, but the second he did his face lit up, and he awkwardly disentangled himself from Diara and Andrael so he could rush over to him.
“I missed you, my friend.” He pulled Alaris into a hug.
“It’s been what, a week since we last saw each other?” Alaris teased, “Barely a blink in our immortal lives.”
“Perhaps.” Tal kissed him, the contact between their lips brief but intimate in how natural it was. “But it’s good to see you anyway.”
Tal pulled him down to the ground by the fire with the others. Moments of peace like this could be rare. They always had some quest or mission from El, some task necessary to further their cause. So when they had calm times like this, it was good to enjoy it together.
Throughout the night, Tal was easily intimate with all of the Venerate. Letting Isiliar lean on his shoulder, cuddling with Wereth and Asar. Alaris wasn’t one to be jealous – not with them. The eleven of them shared a bond no outsider could understand. And he and Tal? They had something different still. So he was never jealous. Not towards Andrael as Tal laughed and kissed him, nor the mortals Tal fell in love with on occasion.
Because as the first rays of dawn broke over the trees, Tal flopped down next to Alaris and their fingers intertwined, sparking a warmth greater than anything else in the world.
Still, there had been one person who could stir jealousy in Alaris’s heart.
He lay in bed with his lover, Tal tracing circles on Alaris’s back. It was a gentle, perfect moment – so of course Alaris had to go and ruin it.
In a soft voice, he asked, “Do you still miss her?”
Tal didn’t need to ask who he was referring to. There was a long pause before he eventually spoke.
“Always,” he answered, “Most of the time it’s like an ache, the kind you get used to and can just ignore. But there are still days that come by, when the pain suddenly stabs into me again, and it’s like I’m there, finding Elliavia’s corpse for the first time. Then doing what I did afterwards….”
Tal trailed off, turning in the bed so his back was to Alaris now. Alaris inched a little closer, wrapping his arms around Tal’s chest.
“We’ll fix it,” he told him, the bitterness in his heart not creeping into his voice.
Alaris understood what he was going through, truly. Like Tal, like all of them, he’d also lost far too many people he cared about. That was why the Venerate existed, wasn’t it? To free them all, put everything right. Gassandrid would save Zvaelar. Alaris would restore his kingdom.
Tal would have his wife again.
It would be beneath Alaris to feel jealousy at the idea, and yet he did. He loved Tal with everything he had, and knew Tal reciprocated with equal intensity. And yet, there was Elliavia, the love Alaris would always pale in comparison to. What were all the centuries he and Tal’kamar had gone through together in the face of the brief mortal life he’d had with her, which had been ruthlessly cut short?
Alaris didn’t have anything against the woman – she was long dead after all. Though maybe her being dead was the problem, because in death she could do no wrong Tal’s mind, be frozen eternally in perfection.
Would there still be room for Alaris if Tal had her back?
He could hope the answer was yes, but he would never ask his love that.
Alaris took a good look at the man who’d ruined everything.
Davian didn’t look like much on the surface, but Alaris knew what he would do – had done. He’d killed Meldier and helped Tal escape, but were those crimes truly anything compared to his greatest offense?
He’d let Tal’kamar kill him, and in doing so may have doomed the world.
The young man was far too calm, leaning against the wall of his cell and staring Alaris down. He shouldn’t have been so relaxed. They’d shown him everything, every atrocity Tal’kamar had done, and finally Davian’s own death. Gass and Diara had thought the former would be enough to get through to him – to make him see Tal’kamar was not to be trusted and Davian shouldn't continue to protect his plans. Alaris knew better, since he more than anyone understood how you could love Tal despite him being a monster. But he’d thought Davian’s mind could be changed if he knew Tal would be his end.
He’d turned out to be wrong. Davian was nearly as stubborn as Tal was, loyal to him even with what he’d been shown. Alaris didn't know if even he could say the same in Davian’s shoes.
He understood that Tal did plan to kill him, like he’d killed Isiliar and had Davian kill Meldier. But deep down, he couldn't see his Tal driving Licanius through his chest. Meanwhile Davian was faced with a memory of the past that showed his inevitable fate, yet he remained unbroken.
“If you intend to torture me, we should just get it over with,” Davian said, “Otherwise if you plan to just try talking, you shouldn’t bother. I know Caeden. And no matter what you say to me I’ll definitely believe him over you.”
Alaris was silent. He didn’t have anything to say, truly. He’d simply wanted to look in the eyes of the man Tal had betrayed them all for. Davian’s death had not immediately changed Tal’kamar, but in hindsight that was clearly where it had all started. Davian, dying to tell Tal he was wrong. And Tal choosing him over the Venerate, choosing the path that would damn the world.
In the brief moments they’d spoken, Davian had touched Tal more than Alaris had in thousands of years. It seemed a petty way to describe the deep anger he felt, but Alaris was jealous . Jealous at how in dying he’d stolen Tal from them, won the game before any even realised he was a player.
Alaris wordlessly turned and walked away, sealing Davian’s cell behind him. He had a mission to fulfill, and stewing in jealousy would not help save the world.
Elliavia, Davian. There really was an easy way into Tal’s heart, and yet it was the one thing Alaris would never be capable of.
All you needed to do was die.
Alaris hadn’t really thought Tal could do it.
The logical part of his mind had told him he would. He knew Tal had killed Isiliar, could safely assume by now that Gass, Diara, Cyr – they were all dead. And then he came to Alaris with Licanius in his hand and tears in his eyes.
But the stupid sentimentality in him still believed the words he’d told Tal when he’d handed him Licanius in Alkathronen. You would never hurt a friend. Even with all the evidence to the contrary, he couldn’t accept that Tal was capable of hurting him.
Except Licanius was slipping between his ribs and his life was draining away.
He could see his long life flashing before his eyes, every mistake and sin, every intimate moment with Tal, every joy and every regret. But simultaneously, he could see the tears streaming down Tal’s face. Feel his arms wrap around Alaris, pulling him close as he pressed their foreheads together and mumbled what might have been an apology. Alaris wanted to spit at him. Alaris wanted to tell him he loved him.
His last thought before everything went black was that at least now, Tal’kamar might be able to make room for him next to Elliavia and Davian on the shrine he’d built to worship all his ghosts.