Cataclysm War | Chapter 72: Parting Words (First Draft)

Leonidas sighed as the last of the guests departed the Ballroom, leaving only his family, companions, and the former regents—as well as the Royal Guard, though he barely counted them. They were a permanent part of his life, as he saw it. At his side, Aylar laughed softly and touched his cheek, drawing his gaze down to meet hers.

“You look exhausted,” she mused, her blue eyes twinkling faintly. “Does socializing truly drain you so much?”

“It can do,” Leonidas responded as he smiled wryly at her and shrugged. “The company wasn’t unpleasant, but there were so many conversations and political deviations that I very nearly lost track of which world I was in.”

The Queen, his wife, grinned at his words and drew him down for a soft kiss.

“Then let that be a reminder, my husband,” she said with a faint blush. “And let us bid farewell to the others. You, Leonidas, owe me a wedding night.”

That bold statement earned a blush in return, and no lack of eager agreement as he turned to lead her, right hand in her left, toward where the remainder of their guests and family lingered. Ceruviel and Uriel were discussing something with Reginald, to which the Archmage was responding with jovial enthusiasm, while Maryanne was standing in quiet discourse with Synthra, whom Leonidas noticed looked faintly nervous.

Sinalthria was speaking with Bardulf and Parnym, miming something that had both men watching her in mild disbelief, while Kairi was devouring a hotdog she’d managed to squirrel away from Maurice at the last second, and watching them all with shrewd eyes.

When Leonidas and Aylar joined them, the conversations tapered off, and the assembled eyes shifted to regard the new Monarchs with a mix of amusement, expectation, and quiet emotion as they came to a halt before the collective.

“Quite the ball, Achilles,” Sinalthria said first, the Guild Mistress’ tail swishing through the air in amusement. “Almost enough of an affair for me to forgive you nearly hoodwinking the Guild with your discount.”

“Discount?” Reginald asked with interest as he turned from his conversation.

“Oh yes,” Ceruviel said idly, “your son has managed to gain a permanent fifty percent reduction on all [Aetherium] costs in the Store.”

Reginald goggled at that and abruptly rubbed his hands together.

“Son,” he began seriously, “there is this most wonderful staff that I—”

Reginald cut off when Leonidas’ mother clapped a hand over his mouth and affixed her pale blue eyes on the King, drawing a dejected look from Reginald and a wary one from Leonidas.

“Mom?” the Terran Archon asked carefully.

“Don’t listen to your father’s nonsense,” the woman said first, and then grabbed Synthra by the arm, dragging the Sorceress over with a yelp from the redhead. “As for this girl, she’s just marvelous, Leonidas. I can see why you and our darling Aylar are so taken by her. I still don’t approve of this multiple-marriage blasphemy, but, well, if the girl is this one, I suppose I can forgive you. She’s already almost as powerful as your father, and she’s only an Adept!”

Synthra blinked nervously at the compliment, and Sinalthria waltzed over in turn, ruffling her daughter’s fiery hair with a clawed hand and an outraged exclamation of “{MOTHER!}” from the Sorceress herself.

“Your announcement was most appreciated, Achilles,” the Guild Mistress said with a decidedly benevolent smirk as she tossed her dark red hair. “It will help greatly with Synthra’s ability to re-establish her father’s lineage, as she desired. You have my thanks, personally, on that front.”

Bardulf and Parnym glanced at Ceruviel at that, and the Duchess grunted.

“Honestly, Sinalthria, if you wanted her to rebuild her lineage, you could have just asked me or the lighstick,” she said, gesturing between herself and a sighing Uriel Aventus. “It would have been no trouble at all.”

Reluctantly, the Dawn-Lord nodded.

“Her lineage is not difficult to trace,” he said in his measured, calm rumble of speech. “It would not have been a great impropriety.”

“Oh! Yes! I forgot, Synthra is the daughter of a Marquis,” Maryanne said excitedly. “Oh, how lovely. Our son, Reggie, rubbing shoulders with so many highborn!”

“Yes, dear, wonderful,” Reginald murmured. “Now, son, about the staff—OOF!”

Kairi, who had just not-so-subtly kicked her father in the shin, sighed.

“Are you all blind? It’s their wedding night. I think they’re just looking for an excuse to go to their bedroom and fu—”

Kairi’s mouth sealed when Synthra clapped a hand over it and waved the other at her own face as she reddened, while Bardulf guffawed and Parnym hid his face behind a palm to his forehead. “No need for that,” the Sorceress said in a voice one octave higher than usual. “I’m sure we all get the idea, Kairi.”

Kairi glared at the Dragoness and curled her fingers into fists before Aylar abruptly slid her hand from Leonidas’ and clapped her palms together loudly.

Everyone stilled when she did, and Leonidas let out a stealthy sigh of relief when his wife took command of the situation. He was already feeling out of his depth. Strange how he could manage politics, but the people closest to him were entirely beyond his ability to wrangle.

“Everyone,” the Queen began firmly. “You are all very dear to us, but I’m afraid the King and I are quite exhausted. As much as I’m sure you’re all very eager to speak, and fret not, there will be time aplenty for that—especially for my darling new in-laws—”

Reginald and Maryanne beamed at that, while the former held his injured shin.

“—on the ‘morrow, I really must insist that we all turn in. Synthra may remain behind, but for the rest of you, I would greatly appreciate if you returned to your guest quarters in the palace or elsewhere. We three have something to discuss amongst ourselves.”

Bardulf and Parnym nodded and bowed—the Shadowblade with a wink—before turning to walk away. Before they could, however, Kairi darted over to them, freeing herself from Synthra’s gag and snagging Parnym’s left arm firmly in both of hers, blue dress whispering around her legs.

“So,” she said to the nervous-looking, suited Haelfar Mender. “Where are you sleeping tonight?”

Parnym stuttered an answer as Bardulf laughed, and the trio vanished out of the doors, leaving an alarmed-looking Maryanne and Reginald staring after their daughter, while Leonidas sighed and dragged his left hand back and forth across his forehead in frustration.

Trust his sister to be as tactful as a brick to the head.

Then again, given her trauma, he was just glad she was able to be herself.

“Mom, Dad,” Leonidas said, drawing his parents’ attention back. “I’ll work on Kairi,” he promised them. “I know things are still tense between you three, but I’ll see what I can do. You’ll stay a bit longer, I hope? Just long enough to see if we can’t mend the bridge.”

His parents hesitated, glanced at one another, then softened and linked hands, conveying unity in the way only two long-married people could. Together, they nodded in acceptance of his words a moment later.

“Thank you, son,” Reginald said with a sad smile. “That’s—we’d most appreciate it. Your sister… well, things have been hard on all of us. Your mother and I would greatly appreciate the help.”

“We’re family,” Leonidas said simply, glancing at Ceruviel, Sinalthria, Uriel, and Synthra. “All of us,” he elaborated. “Ceruviel is like the crazy Aunt Kairi, and I never wanted, and I swear Uriel acts like the imposing Uncle every time I see him.”

Ceruviel snorted a laugh at that and elbowed Uriel, who grunted in turn.

“The King called you his Uncle, Duke Brightbritches. Nice upgrade.”

In turn, Uriel just sighed heavily. Leonidas almost felt bad for him.

“I’m going to report for the Dusk Watch,” his Mentor said without further ado. “Brightbones here needs his beauty sleep. Mary, Reginald, did you wish to see Moonstone Keep?”

Leonidas’ parents brightened at that, and they nodded agreeably.

“Oh yes! That would be wonderful, Duchess,” Maryanne said with genuine interest. “I know Reg has been just dying of curiosity about the wards woven around it!”

“Yes, I wanted to ask you about those, Ceruviel,” Reginald said with a clearing of his throat, “namely, how did you—Oh! Oops, silly me,” he said abruptly, cutting himself off as he spun back to Leonidas and Aylar, and dipped into an awkward bow while nursing his injured leg. Leonidas blinked and raised his hands, but Reginald grinned at him.

“When in Rome, son, when in Rome!”

Then, with that, he nodded to Maryanne, who cocked her head, made an ‘O’ face, and then snagged her arm around the far larger limb of Sinalthria. “Now, Sinalthria,” she said in her most motherly voice. “Given our children will eventually be wed, and we’ll be in-laws, I’d love to get to know you better, too, dear.”

Sinalthria showed an expression of mild perplexion on her features as Leonidas’ mother abruptly dragged her off, and Ceruviel grinned and followed after them, curtseying to Leonidas and Aylar before departing. Uriel, watching the collective evacuation, turned his resigned gaze to the King and Queen, sketched a form-perfect bow, and followed after Ceruviel with all the dignity he could must—mildly sabotaged by the Duchess tossing him an annoyed “Hurry up!” as he did.

That left Leonidas and Aylar alone with Synthra, but for the Royal Guard, and the redhead fidgeted nervously at the realization.

Before it could grow awkward, however, Aylar swept forward and put her arms around her, bringing the taller woman into a warm hug and squeezing her tight enough that the Sorceress winced.

“I know you’re dejected,” Aylar murmured as Leonidas came a little closer, not hiding the words, but not advertising them either. “I know. You’re as dear to me as he is, Synthra. Don’t worry. Once the Realm is stabilized, I’ll be your Maid of Honor just as you were mine.”

Synthra froze at the words, and then abruptly melted, hugging Aylar back and nodding her horned head with a murmured thanks.

The Queen smiled, drew back, and gently kissed Synthra on the lips—a chaste kiss, but one that seemed to seal a promise, which the redhead reacted to with a blush that covered her cheeks all the way to her ears.

“Aylar, you—”

“Peace,” the Swordmaiden said bracingly, and set her hands on Synthra’s cheeks. “You’re my closest friend, Synthra. I will be honored to be your bond-wife.”

Synthra blinked at the words and then smiled shyly, dipping her head in wordless thanks as Aylar lowered her hands to squeeze the Sorceress’ own and then looked at Leonidas.

“I will be in your chambers,” she promised him, turned back to smile at Sythra again, and then stepped out of the Throne Room—followed immediately by the sound of marching footsteps as her Dagger of Royal Guard fell into escort formation outside of the room.

Leonidas watched his golden-haired wife go and turned back to Synthra, who fidgeted with her sleeve. Drawing a breath, he stepped forward calmly and reached out, after a moment, to take her hands in his. Synthra hesitated when he did and looked up at him, her golden eyes faintly misty when she did.

“I know it’s hard,” Leonidas murmured, speaking from the heart instead of from the mind. “It’s hard for me, too. This is very confusing for me. I was raised to believe marriage was between two people, Synthra. Hell, my parents are adapting to this better than I am, but…”

He took a breath, and when she opened her lips, he eyed her until she closed them again.

“I’m not going to pretend that this is easy for me. I feel like a lecherous slug, but I can’t deny my feelings either. I adore Aylar, and I adore you, and choosing between you is like deciding which sunrise is more beautiful. You’re unique, Synthra, both of you are—and God curse me for a villain, but I don’t want to give either of you up.”

Synthra swallowed when he spoke, watching him, and Leonidas moved closer—pressing his forehead to hers as she flinched, for a moment, before slowly returning her forehead to press against his.

She smelled like woodsmoke and vanilla, just as he remembered.

“I don’t know how this will work,” he confessed quietly. “I don’t even know what the hell any of this really is, but I care for you, Synthra of the Everflame—I care for you, and I will do everything I can to make sure you know that, from now until the end of our lives.”

His gaze met hers, and he smiled faintly.

“Even if I screw it up along the way. You’ll just have to promise to forgive me when I do.”

Synthra met his gaze with her own, and her full, red lips spread into a wry smile.

“As if,” she began huskily, “I didn’t already know that, bighead. I—thank you, Achilles. I needed to hear that,” the Sorceress admitted, and after a moment, wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder as he narrowly dodged her horns. “Thank you,” she said again, squeezing him. “For the announcement, too. It… it meant a lot. I was scared you’d forgotten about me,” she admitted quietly.

“Forget about you?” Leonidas asked with a soft chuckle. “Easier to forget about a blazing forest fire. You’re part of my future, Synthra, unless you decide otherwise. That’s never been in question.”

The Quarter-Dragon sniffled at that, cleared her throat, and after a moment of hesitation, leaned up to kiss his cheek before stepping away.

“You, ah, owe Aylar a wedding night,” she murmured, her cheeks red again, while she glanced at the exit. “And I need to go rescue my mother from yours. That woman is terrifying.”

Leonidas blinked at that and followed her gaze.

“Really? My mom is scary?”

Synthra looked back at him incredulously.

“She asked me about grandchildren, Achilles. Grandchildren!”

Leonidas smiled ruefully. “She’s probably just happy I’m marrying a redhead. She’s always complaining that Kairi didn’t even inherit her hair properly.”

Synthra blinked at that, reaching up to touch her hair, and then smiled warmly.

“Then I can give her that gift…” she murmured, then seemed to realize her own implication, and started. “Uh, perhaps. Maybe! If you earn it, I mean. Yes. Earn it. Um. Farewell, Achilles!”

Before Leonidas could say another word, the redhead hurried away, sashaying in a manner he found horrifyingly unfair as she raced after their parents. Left alone with just the Royal Guard and the remaining staff, the Archon-King sighed.

“Hell,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll never understand women.”