Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

FULL MOON

It has to be perfect. 

After a year apart, there’s no way that Sett will let himself say the first dumb thing that pops into his head when he sees Aphelios, their reunion needs to be just right, and so whatever Sett says… it has to be perfect.

Should he say something smooth? Like, long time no see ? No, a bit too pedestrian, and corny to boot.

What about ‘welcome home’? That’s not half bad, Sett thinks, as he doodles on the paperwork Rhoanna’s been after him to get finished for ages. It’s hopeless though, after receiving Phel’s letter indicating he and Alune would be arriving in about three weeks—which meant that they were due tomorrow or the day after, now—Sett has felt like he’s had proverbial bees in his bonnet, ants in his pants… every conceivable metaphor to describe the frustrated, excited restlessness of a man who hates waiting, being forced to wait for what he wants most in the whole world.

Yes… welcome home is solid, because this will be one of Phel’s homes from now on. Their dreams will come true; those lovesick daydreams he’d found so tormenting two years ago, after being with Aphelios for the first time. Thinking about how badly he wanted his future to consist of holding this precious person in his arms with the assurances that the dawn wouldn’t mean the Lunari had to leave him again… Aphelios will still have to split his time between Targon and Ionia, but it will be in accordance with his desires and never again for a purpose which will endanger his very life. They’ll be able to spend weeks or even months together now… Sett will be able to finish his work at the pits and make his way to his house, where Aphelios will be waiting for him…

The beast-man is totally lost in thought, envisioning how the reunion will go, how weird and cool it will be to see Alune in person, how he should probably take cues from her and not go in for a hug right away, given that they don’t really properly know each other. And, unfortunately, there's also still a bit of unresolved tension from when she’d written him that letter. He's mulling this over when a knock on the door disrupts his reverie.

“I ain’t done with the paperwork shit yet, Rho!” Sett barks, presuming it’s his lieutenant checking on his progress (which is non-existent, and he doesn’t want her to see that). “Climb off my dick about it, will ya?”

Contrary to his instructions, the door opens, and all of a sudden all the paperwork and perfect things to say and reminiscing and daydreams totally evaporate, because Sett is rushing to the door, tripping out of his chair in his haste, rushing to Aphelios who is standing there, grinning and holding out his arms for an embrace.

“You’re early!” Sett cries out, elated, as he runs and seizes Aphelios into a crushing hug, the impact is enough that the Lunari makes a little oof sound, and this close, Phel’s familiar scent washes over the Vastayan and without him meaning for it to, his magic illuminates over his body. It casts a faint golden glow across Aphelios’ features as Sett pulls away so he can kiss him, but he’s arrested by a magnificent surprise, upon which he makes another totally unplanned exclamation and definitely not some smooth, well-crafted remark:

“Phel! Your eyes! Your eyes are so purple!” 

Sett lasts only a moment or two more, looking down into the face he loves so much—Aphelios’ violet eyes the most vibrant Sett has ever seen them, so lively, sparkling with mirth and totally clear from the haze of pain and noctum and exhaustion and obligation—before his face crumples into uncontrollable tears, and he pulls his soulmate close once again, burying himself against the crook of Phel’s neck, sobbing.

“You look so healthy, mooncake,” Sett manages to choke out. If he can’t keep from crying like this, then he at least needs to let Aphelios know that it’s from happiness. He feels the Lunari hug him back so tightly, stroking up and down his heaving back, not rushing the moment or the time Sett needs to feel it. And being touched like this, the first time someone other than his mother has hugged him in over a year… it just makes Sett cry harder.

“…I missed you terribly,” Aphelios murmurs as he continues to pet Sett’s back, displacing little swirling patterns in the currents of the dimming Vastayan magic. His voice is thick with emotion too, and his eyes are shining with moisture when Sett finally pulls away, red-faced and wiping his runny nose on the back of his hand, truly unable to speak more, now that he’s heard how Aphelios’ voice has fully recovered, too. 

And only now does he see through tear-filled eyes past his fiancé, out into the hallway where Rhoanna is smiling at him, her cheeks wet with tears too, and a dignified woman with long, snow-white hair who gives him a surprisingly timid wave: Alune.

Without thinking and forgetting his earlier prudence, Sett reaches for them too and pulls them all into an emotional bear hug, Aphelios squished in the middle, and for a moment Sett’s heart is so full of happiness it begins to hurt.

“Boss,” Rhoanna croaks, “I can’t breathe over here, relax a bit will ya?”

Laughing and apologizing, Sett releases them from the crush of his arms, smoothing Aphelios’ rumpled travel robes just to have an excuse to touch him more, unable to stop grinning and sniffling, noticing that he’s let his black hair grow to his shoulders, touching and stroking that too. Aphelios leans into the touch, smiling up at Sett—who is so terminally smitten he can barely handle it—before he turns to his sister, reaching for her hand and introducing her.

“Sett, this is Alune,” he says, pride and adoration warming his voice. 

The beast-man and the seer take each other in as they greet each other, and Sett can see the familiarity of the features he loves so well in Aphelios in his twin. The intelligent gaze, the elegant shape of their eyes, the high cheekbones and full lips. But even within the joy of the moment, he can sense awkwardness from her, and though he’s not looking forward to it, it’s important to him to sort things out with her. Luckily, before any of the weirdness is noticed by the other two, Rhoanna breaks any brewing tension.

“Hey moon boy,” she says, slinging her arm around Aphelios’ broad shoulders. “All this time we’ve known each other, how close we’ve gotten… and you never told me your sis is a total babe?”

Everyone laughs more as Aphelios turns crimson, Alune taking the joke in stride, making it clear she’s much less bashful than her brother. Rhoanna is ever Sett’s devoted wingman though, and with her urging and guidance, arrangements for covering the pit for the rest of the day and the next at least are hastily made, and Sett is ordered to ‘get the hell outta here’ and go catch up with his fiancé and future sister-in-law.

Discovering the twins haven’t had dinner yet, Sett leaves instructions with his staff to get the siblings’ luggage brought to Sett’s house, while the three of them head to Sett’s favourite restaurant. Sett grips Phel’s hand the entire time, holding onto it so tightly because he’s still not sure this is really happening, that he didn’t just doze off at his desk and dream about seeing Aphelios like he has a hundred times before. 

Their walk is an interesting experience, because on the way there and once they’ve arrived, Alune can’t help but remark on things she recognizes, having seen them through Aphelios’ eyes many times on his trips to Ionia. She gasps happily when she sees the lattice hung with the wisteria in full bloom, teasing her brother wryly that she remembers it well from the summer night where the two men shared their first meal together. As he listens to Alune talk about how amusing it had been to follow the course of Aphelios’ thoughts and realize he was catching a big fat crush, Sett thinks to himself that he could certainly get used to having Alune good-naturedly expose her reserved brother like this.

They spend a couple hours together, updating each other and reminiscing, acting like old friends, which, in a sense, they all are. Sett had always felt like he knew Alune through the stories Aphelios had told him, and for the years that Sett and Aphelios had gotten to know each other before things had become romantic, Alune had experienced and seen everything her brother had. 

Sett feels like a shaken fizzy drink, his insides are so effervescent with delirious joy, and every time he doubts that it’s too good to be true, he squeezes Aphelios’ thigh where he can’t bear to take his hand from even for a moment. It’s dizzying to be able to feel Phel’s body—substantial and not a dream, a safe and healthy body—and hear his voice like this; though he is still on the quiet side, Aphelios can use his voice when he desires to and this miracle threatens to make Sett weep from uncontainable gratitude if he thinks about it too long, if he lets himself stare at Aphelios’ healthy beauty for too long too.

All is going well and the awkwardness from earlier seems to be forgotten until abruptly, over coffees and desserts as they speak about all the things they should do together in Navori, Alune suddenly becomes serious.

“I must ask you, Settrigh.” Her tone is a little unforgiving and icy, enough that Sett’s ears dip and Aphelios shifts a little in his chair. “The last time my brother was here in this city with you, he was kidnapped. Should we be concerned about further threats from your enemies? Aphelios does not have the use of his Moon-given weapons any longer. If something were to occur, it is possible he would not survive this time.”

Even contemplating such a thought causes Sett’s mouth to go dry, and the self-loathing and shame from Aphelios ever having to go through that because of him are still fresh enough that, more than a year later, he struggles to keep Alune’s severe gaze. Aphelios himself seems to have his eyes riveted to his coffee cup, unsure of how to proceed.

“I dunno how I can tell ya how sorry I am that ever happened,” Sett manages after rolling his tongue around his dry mouth and clearing the parched feeling from his throat. “It’s one of the only regrets I have ‘n I think I’ll carry that shit till the day I die—” 

Aphelios moves his hand to clasp Sett’s giant one where it’s still affixed to his thigh, murmuring the beginning of a reassurance that Sett can forgive himself.

“Nah Phel, don’t say it’s fine. It wasn’t, it ain’t. I feel as lucky that you got outta there as I feel for ever havin’ met ya in the first place.

“So please trust me when I say I couldn’t live with the idea that it might ever happen again,” he continues. “But to be honest with ya, I hardly needed to do anything, but it’s all fixed. Since I came back from helpin’ Phel in Buhru, I’ve done my own investigatin’, but when I say there have been no problems, there have been no problems.”

Alune takes a sip of her digestif and delicately folds her hands in her lap, but even within these small movements, her skeptical disapproval is clear.

“Look,” Sett clarifies in response to her wordless admonishment. “It ain’t anythin’ that I did either, so I ain’t even really askin’ ya to trust me. Thing is, word got around that people had tried to fuck with Phel—well, people don’t know he’s Phel, but they know he’s with me and that he’s not from around here—and that he wiped ‘em off the map by himself, no help. At least no help they know of. Since then, all the fuckers that’ve been giving me trouble for years, people who tried to drag me down once I made somethin’ of myself, they all came to me and wanted alliances. Begged for ‘em.”

Aphelios does pry his eyes away from his mug and stares imploringly at Sett. The Vastayan knows that this information will trigger an immense conflict in his fiancé; while Aphelios may have come to terms with taking the lives of people because they had tried to harm him, he’d never be proud of it, much less proud of perpetrating something that had scared people so profoundly. Sett’s expression softens uncontrollably as he looks back at Phel, and gives him a reassuring squeeze on his leg.

“They ain’t willin’ to mess with me anymore, or anyone with me. There are even rumours that Phel is some leader in the Black Rose, ‘n that he’ll use his ‘magic’ to take out any o’ my enemies. It’s horseshit, but enough people know my Pa was Noxian ‘n nobody could understand how Phel did what he did, so people jumped to conclusions and connected dots that weren’t there. I’m not gonna lie, the rumours have been real convenient for me, but they also mean that I’m totally confident no one’ll dare lay a finger on either of ya, because even if they don’t totally buy the gossip, they’re too chickenshit to risk it.”

Silence falls, until, unexpectedly, Aphelios breaks it.

“You look pleased,” he remarks dryly upon Alune’s smirk, so small that Sett had missed it.

“Well,” she responds gingerly, but with satisfaction, “I know you will be dismayed, and, you know my feelings on having used the blessings of the Moon for such a profane purpose. But… are the rumours all that incorrect? My brother has killed a god, he is the hero of an ancient tribe. If anything, the rumours do not do justice to the truth.”

Phel goes crimson and becomes fascinated with his coffee cup again, muttering about how he did nothing, that it was all the power of his sister, the Moon, the Aspects, but Alune just smirks wider, clearly adoringly proud of her little brother. Sett finds himself in agreement with Alune on this one, and for the time being, Phel is good-naturedly victimized by his sister and future husband who have joined forces to discuss how special and exceptional he is, only fueled by his modesty. 

All seems to be settled and the awkwardness dissolves as they make their way to Sett’s mansion, Alune yawning and declaring she can barely keep her eyes open, but informing them that she has first dibs on the bathtub before she goes to bed, she’s never had a hot bath in a tub before and she’s been dying to try ever since she heard Sett owned one. In the back of his mind, along with some other plans that are forming, Sett decides he’ll give Rhoanna some much deserved vacation, on the condition that she spends at least a full day of it getting the deluxe package at Ionia’s most luxurious spa with Alune, his treat, where the girls can enjoy hot baths and all kinds of other comforts to their hearts’ content.

Alune is happily lost to a bubble bath after they arrive and unpack a bit, allowing Sett and Aphelios time alone… their first since the previous summer, when they’d been forced to bid farewell to each other on the docks of Buhru, Aphelios looking ragged and feeling worse, Sett struggling to keep the pieces of his heart together knowing he had no choice but to let him go back to Targon, with no guarantees they would ever see each other again.

Aphelios is taking off his travel clothes as Sett contemplates this, and the Lunari only manages to get one arm out of a coat sleeve before he’s seized from behind into Sett’s massive arms, and his cheek is tickled by a fuzzy ear as Sett buries his head into the crook of his neck, kissing and inhaling deeply.

“Love you, bunny,” Sett says happily against the flesh of Phel’s throat, nuzzling. “You smell exactly the same, it’s great.”

Aphelios turns in the embrace, smiling and shedding his coat before looping his arms around the beast-man’s shoulders, going up on his tiptoes to shower Sett’s mouth and cheeks and nose with tender kisses.

“I love you too, Sett. I love you so much. I can’t believe I am really back here, with you.”

“And now we can get married.” They smile at each other, deciding that the rest of their feelings will be communicated without the need for words, as soon as Phel is settled from his long voyage. He picks his coat up from the floor, folding it and trying the drawer of a nearby cabinet he can’t remember having been in Sett’s bedroom when he was here last, thinking to stow his clothing there for now. He notices how exquisite the craftsmanship is, the little dresser is inlaid with pearl and silver in bone-white wood, with carvings of the moon and mountains. The drawer refuses Aphelios’ pull, and he turns to Sett, who’s been watching silently, with a gentle smile.

“Keeping secrets behind locked drawers?” Aphelios teases, but he’s already moving away to the ordinary chest of drawers on the other side of the room because whatever Sett is keeping secured in the beautiful cabinet is his business and it doesn’t actually bother him. But he’s stopped by the Vastayan, who pulls a dainty key with a silver tassel from his coat, where he’s kept it on him since he’d custom ordered the dresser nearly a year ago.

“Go ahead, you can see what’s in it. No secrets from you, sweetheart.”

Wondering what it could be, if it’s perhaps some elaborate surprise or something for the wedding, Aphelios carefully unlocks the chest, opening it and revealing its contents as Sett comes to hug him from behind again, hunching a little so they can stand cheek to cheek.

It’s hundreds of pages, if not thousands, all covered in Aphelios’ distinctive, spidery handwriting and painstakingly organized and preserved. It is a year of correspondence, including the letters Sett had temporarily lent him if Aphelios had wanted to show them to Alune, but which had been returned again by courier before the lunar convergence… because Aphelios hadn’t been sure he’d survive, and he’d promised he’d give them back. 

“They’re my treasures,” Sett explains simply as Aphelios thumbs through them, his cheeks feeling hot. “’N I wanted to make sure they were safe, for my eyes only. Thank you for writin’ ‘em.”

Aphelios replaces all of the letters exactly as he found them, conscientiously re-closing the cabinet, locking it, and turning in Sett’s embrace.

“…I was scared,” Phel admits, his voice threadbare with emotion, and muffled from where he’s speaking into Sett’s chest, the Vastayan tightening his hold and alternating between bestowing kisses and pets on his long hair. “I was scared that you would see I was pathetic, that… I was a mess. That I was too much. I have never shown anyone that side of me, not even Alune, because I couldn’t, not under the noctum. I… but you kept them all, you cherished every letter…”

“You ain’t pathetic, sweetheart,” Sett murmurs into Phel’s obsidian hair. “Those letters came from the most beautiful man I ever met, and I ain’t talkin’ about your looks. I felt grateful to get to know ya even better. Thank you for that.”

Aphelios seems soothed by that, and happily lets Sett pick him up by the waist and carry him to the bed; he lets himself be undressed by calloused, tanned hands that can’t touch him enough, he lets Sett demonstrate the physical passion of their enduring love that only grew during their separation.

The next couple days are filled with such a flurry of joy that it’s a wonder either of their hearts survive such bursting. Along with the simple but irreplaceable pleasure of being able to hold each other and make love again and hearing each others’ voices and laughter, wonderful experiences are shared that they previously hadn’t dared to dream of. They are able to bring Alune around Navori, introducing her to Sett’s mother who fawns over the twins, utterly delighted when she sees how healthy Aphelios looks in contrast to the few and brief times she had been able to meet him before. Her excitement over the coming wedding is contagious, and after enough time allowing Alune and Aphelios to get their bearings, the fun of planning can begin.

“Well, I suppose if we light the fireworks after the dinner and before the dancing, the ceremony will be well over by that time. But is there no way you can be satisfied with lighting them the night before, during the reception feast? That way the Full Moon will not be obscured at all.”

Sett gives Alune’s request some thought. He’d known basically nothing about Lunari wedding customs and it had been too painful to ask until Aphelios’ safety had been secured, but that hadn’t stopped Sett from daydreaming about exactly what kind of celebrations he wanted. He hadn’t anticipated that the wedding had to take place on a cloudless night underneath the full moon, and the fireworks display he’d become extremely invested in is already being soft vetoed by his future sister-in-law. But having agreed that the wedding ceremony itself would be small, only their closest friends and Sett’s mother, they’d decided to have a reception banquet the night before, which would be open to Sett’s more casual cronies and business contacts.

“Nah, it’d be okay to do it at the reception,” he concedes, leaning back in his chair where he’s sitting around a table covered in the décor and catering pamphlets, bouquet mockups, musician catalogues and cloth samples he’s collected, talking details with Alune and Aphelios all morning and into the afternoon. His mother has also come over to help plan, but is currently busyingbusying herself in his kitchen, making them all some tea and snacks even though he had insisted she leave it to his staff, but she’d been bustling around, doing momma things, and Sett had recognized it as her need to take care of and treat them. Simply put, she wanted to spoil who she saw as her three children. 

“More people’ll know what it’s for, that way. ‘N if I’m gonna shell out the money for fireworks, people’d better fuckin’ know—” 

“Language, Settrigh,” Momma warns sharply from the kitchen, having heard her son cuss. Said son shrinks instantly, his ears flattened against his head, somehow looking like a scolded tiny pup despite being a gigantic, muscle-bound crime lord.

“How many people again?” Aphelios asks, narrowly avoiding busting into laughter at the scene of his beloved getting yelled at by his mother.

Sett unshrinks a little, but knowing Momma can hear them easily, he picks his words carefully. “We’re probably lookin’ at around two hundred ‘n eighty, maybe three hundred? I have a lotta friends in the, uh, construction biz. 'N when one of us gets hitched, it’s usually a pretty big deal.”

Three hundred. That is a lot. All Aphelios says is “I see,” and sinks deep into his seat.

“I can get the banquet stuff taken care of, no sweat, unless you guys have somethin’ specific you want for it. But we have just under a month if we’re gonna go with the full harvest moon, so anythin’ that you guys specifically want, tell me, so I can make sure it’s seen to.” 

Alune pipes up, and Aphelios can tell she’s in her element, enjoying trying to plan festivities and getting to make decisions. “Well, in the Lunari tradition, brides must cleanse themselves fully in the water of a pool on a peak by our temple. The water can purify all, and no auspicious marriage would proceed without it.”

“Hm, it’ll be real tight,” Sett replies, not missing a beat, “but I can look into shipping a container of water from Targon, provided we have the permission of your elders to take it. Funny enough I know guy who did something almost identical with glacier water in the Freljord so it shouldn’t be—”

“No,” Aphelios interrupts softly.

Both Sett and Alune are confused, but Aphelios struggles to find the words to be able to elaborate, and a horrible, dark chill starts to seep up seemingly from the soles of his feet, making it even harder for him to speak.

As close as they are, even his sister and his fiancé can’t read his mind, and unfortunately they both seem to misread the source of his increasing discomfort.

“Cost ain’t an issue Phel,” Sett tries to reassure him. “I’d much rather we do everythin’ by the book, so there ain’t any doubts or concerns over whether this was legit or properly blessed by the moon or whatever.”

“Phel,” Alune echoes, following right on the heels of Sett’s words. “You know how important these rituals are, if Sett can find a way, this is not something to be modest about.”

“No,” Aphelios says again, and he wants to explain, but his voice is catching in his throat.

Whether it’s a lucky coincidence or a conscientious intervention from Momma who’s overheard everything, the Vastayan woman enters the living room at exactly that moment, setting down a cup of tea in front of Aphelios only, resting one of her hands on his good shoulder. Even though they do not know each other very well yet, Aphelios senses with uncanny surety that, through her hand, Momma can feel the ‘coldness,’ and the moment he thinks that, it recedes in the face of a gentle but potent, caring warmth. 

“My dears your drinks and snacks are almost ready, Aphelios’ lemongrass tea was just the quickest.” The Lunari can hear the smile in her voice from where she’s standing behind him, and he suspects the sudden delivery of tea may have been a pretext after all, for she makes no move to return to the kitchen, instead perhaps staying so she can brace Aphelios with the comfort of her touch as he makes an attempt to explain.

“I don’t want it. Because I know firsthand…” he spends a moment worried his voice is going to cut out, it happens so rarely now but it still happens, like on days where his vivid nightmares return, and he’s approaching the same feeling now, with these awful memories resurging. “That water does nothing. It is not special. Or, at least, it does not work on me.”

He closes his eyes for a second, breathing in deeply to calm his heart that threatens to begin racing, the heat from Momma’s palm anchoring him in the here and now, saving him from the chilling grip of remembering the weeks he spent forced into that frost-ringed mountain pool every day for hours, when he’d needed to be ‘purified.’

He opens his eyes again and lifts his gaze, staring at his sister and soon to be husband in turn. “And even if that were not the case, it is unnecessary. The bathing is a custom for brides, and there is no bride here.”

With an approving little squeeze of her hand, Momma departs, returning to the kitchen.

Alune immediately apologizes to her brother, chagrined.

“Point taken,” Sett says with incredible tenderness. “No mountain water. Sorry for gettin’ caught up, mooncake. I know it’s hard since we’re gettin’ pretty carried away, but you let us know like ya just did when there’s somethin’ you want or don’t want, ‘kay?”

Aphelios thinks for a moment, knowing Sett means it and that he also owes it to himself to ensure that his own wedding is something he enjoys. The reception dinner might be a lost cause, he can’t see himself feeling anything less than harried and outrageously uncomfortable being one of two centres of attention in front of three hundred guests. But... if he survived a banquet in honour of him and Alune, he can do this for Sett, who he can see is delighted at the prospect of a gigantic party at which he can showboat. All things considered, there is only one thing that feels important to Aphelios that hasn’t been addressed yet. 

“The wedding itself will be small, the four of us, and the officiant. But Rhoanna and Kirin will be therethere too, right?” When Sett nods emphatically, Aphelios continues. “I was wondering if it would be possible to send an invitation to Kolli as well. If she can come, I would really like to see her… as myself. I want to thank her for saving me in the Isles, with my voice this time. And celebrate with her.”

Sett beams, so proud of Aphelios. “Consider it done. I’ll get an invitation rushed to Buhru today. If she wants to come, I’ll make sure nothin’ stands in her way.” 

After smiling back gratefully, Aphelios allows his focus to centre on his tea, he doesn’t really have any opinion on what colour or fabric the tablecloths should be, or what kinds of floral arrangements would look nice, but Sett certainly does and Aphelios is all too happy to defer to the beast-man’s very opinionated and very cute demands for the wedding décor. He can tell Alune is excited too, and she’s proving to have a real knack for suggesting smaller pieces or slight changes in the colour palette that will bring more overall visual harmony, or look better under moonlight. Truthfully, he zones out a little, until Momma returns with the other drinks and some small tea cakes, taking her seat beside Aphelios, quietly listening in as he does, both of them content just to observe the shared delight of Sett and Alune.

Soon, things seem more or less settled with Sett covering his plans to visit all the shops and vendors to begin signing the contracts, when he turns meaningfully to the twins, but focusing especially on the sister.

“Hey Alune,” he starts, and the sudden seriousness in his manner, Aphelios wonders if it’s what they had talked about privately the night before, an idea that Sett had come up with on his own and one Aphelios supported wholeheartedly. “If it’s okay with you ‘n Phel, I was wondering if you’d wanna help me, y’know, with stuff like visitin’ these places, helpin’ me keep all the agreements ‘n contracts straight ‘n makin’ sure I ain’t missin’ anything.”

From her expression alone, Aphelios can tell she’s conflicted. She’s probably pleased to have been asked specifically, but everyone in the room knows that, no matter how giddy they could get together over wedding planning, that there is still significant unresolved tension between the two. 

When he and Aphelios had talked about it before falling asleep the previous night, Sett had gotten genuinely emotional when he’d confessed that as much as he hated not being able to move past it, he still bore deep resentment for the things Alune had said about him in the letter. Moreover, he truly wanted to have a chance to form his own relationship with her instead of taking it for granted that they were all just going to be family now once the marriage was formalized. Aphelios had understood completely, petting the beast-man’s ears to calm him down from feeling so guilty about holding a grudge when he just wanted it to all be perfect for Phel so badly. He’d finally stopped apologizing once the Lunari explained how lucky he felt that Sett cared enough to put in the effort to make things right with Alune, that he agreed Alune’s letter had crossed several lines, and how he appreciated that Sett understood in many ways the twins were a package deal while being their own people too.

Before Alune can object or brush off the offer, Sett reveals his real intention, and Aphelios is pretty sure he catches the glint of immense maternal pride in Momma’s eye at this display of her son’s maturity.

“I also wanna spend some time with ya, we should figure out our own… thing. I don’t wanna treat you like you’re just Phel’s sister, I think of you as my family too. I wanna get to know ya, and I want you to get to know me. Properly.”

Alune finishes chewing her bite of pastry.

“Yes,” she agrees at length. “I would like that, too. Thank you for the invitation.”

The beast-man smiles with relief and satisfaction, and as much as Aphelios would love to follow them around invisible and overhear what they talk about, he’s so happy that they’re both willing to invest in the long-term harmony between them, basically for his sake.

Sett confirms that Alune is fine with starting their endeavours tomorrow, and Aphelios gets strict instructions to laze about the mansion or relax however else he sees fit while they're out. 

With that sorted, the half-Vastayan turns to his mother and sort of rushes through a question that takes them all by surprise, and it’s clear that Sett is shy to ask it.

“So, we uh, we got the Lunari stuff sorted out, but… is there anythin’ your tribe woulda done, Ma?”

His ears are a little wilted and he’s staring at his mother with beseeching eyes as she tries to figure out what he’s referring to.

“What do you mean, dear?”

Sett fumbles a little more with the words, and underneath them there is a palpable sense of anxiety, sadness, curiosity and regret. Having talked it through with his fiancé as well, Aphelios knew that Sett harboured regrets for his adolescence and early twenties, when, in his effort to recover from the torment he’d endured growing up as a ‘freak’ and being weaponized in the pits, he’d shut down most of his mother’s attempts to teach him about his magical heritage. He’d been satisfied that he’d found a raw way to be as powerful as he needed, he’d rebelled that it didn’t matter if it was undisciplined, and he’d demanded why he should waste time knowing the customs of the tribe who’d exiled his mother in the first place.

“How do… y’know… what’re Vastaya weddin’s like? Is there somethin’ you’d like to see as part of the ceremony?”

“Sweet pea…” Momma hesitates, thinking of how to make her son understand, but clearly so happy he asked. “You see, Vastaya do not really have any such ceremonies. A declaration of union is made, which is what allows the couple’s magic to intertwine. It’s the recognition received from the magic that matters, not from others, though it is felt and respected by others as a consequence.”

“Huh? Magic intertwinin’? What is that supposed t’mean? So you guys’d just say ‘I’m with him now’ ‘n that’s it?”

“Have you not—” Momma interrupts herself, realizing Sett’s puzzlement is answer enough. The three young people hang on her every word.

“‘Have I not’ what? No, I haven’t, whatever it is, ‘cause I’m pretty sure I woulda felt it or known about it?” Sett is getting a little worked up, it’s a bit of a sore spot and he feels foolish for having rebuffed all his mother’s attempts to explain previously.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I had figured… I had just assumed you would have experienced it by now. Although I’m not sure how it might work for you, it might not be the same.”

“ What might not be the same?” Sett pushes.

Momma gives some gentle laughter, before deciding to give up dancing around the issue, although as soon as she does, Sett wishes dearly he hadn’t pushed so hard, what with Alune and Aphelios hanging on every word.

“I had thought you would have experienced sharing your magic with Aphelios already, during your nights together. You’re right, you couldn’t miss it if it happened. But, in a more general sense having your magic intertwine with someone, you feel much more connected. You have a sense of what they are experiencing even if they are far from you. This sort of manifestation is hit or miss with humans, but during lovemaking, it’s obvious, no matter the species of the other partner.”

Sett goes a deep shade of red once he understands he’s getting a talk about Vastaya birds and bees in his thirties, and in front of an audience.

“Ma! Ya couldn’t have pulled me aside for that one? You know that ain’t what I was askin’ about so why ya gotta talk about this crap?” he groans, mortified as his mother laughs harder.

“Goodness, there’s no need to be such a prude about it, Settrigh. After all, where do you think you came from? An egg? Not even the Lhotlan bird tribes lay eggs. It’s perfectly natural, and quite wonderful with someone you love deeply. One of the most beautiful gifts our magic can give us.”

Sett struggles for a moment, conflicted between how embarrassing this is, and his curiosity that’s bordering on anxiety, for he shares the same thought that’s in Aphelios’ head too; it would be difficult to find two people who loved each other more, and though their sex together felt amazing and connected and loving, it was decidedly not supernatural.

“We haven’t… uh… gods help me… is there, uh, somethin’ special you hafta do? Say some kind of magic words? Like what’s that declaration business? ‘Cause I… well, the only thing my magic can do is basically make me super strong. Helps with the construction biz, but I ain’t never felt connected to someone else through it.”

“That may be my fault,” she says, eliciting Sett’s protestations. “I knew I should have explained things to you properly. I see now it was very unfair to assume you would just come to me if you had questions, when you were ready. Your strength is only one small expression of your magic. And even with your human father, there is much more for you.”

Sett squirms at the mention of his dad, but lets his mother continue.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I truly thought you knew. After the first time you were with Aphelios, the day that you came to visit me and told me you had fallen in love and were determined to marry him, something like that would be considered the declaration. I could feel the change in your magic then, and I just assumed that you felt it and understood it too.”

“Huh? Wait, so… uh…”

Momma nods gently, still smiling. “From that first night, as far as your magic and your heart were concerned, you were ‘married.’ At least what the Vastaya equivalent would be. There is so much more for you to experience from your magic. I’m sorry for you to be surprised by this. I should have insisted more.”

She falls silent, and it’s one of those rare occasions where he is at a loss for words, trying to figure things out and still wading through his confusion and embarrassment. Aphelios is embarrassed too, but much more powerfully, he feels warmed to hear that the power of their love was felt so mutually and so completely by Sett that it was reflected in the very makeup of his being, recognized by the natural, magical world around him, if not by himself in a conscious way. At length though, Sett organizes his thoughts and agrees.

“Well, now that ya mention it… that does make sense,” he concedes. “Everyone made fun o’ me when I kept sayin’ I was gonna get married, they were like ‘Boss it’s only been one night,’ but I knew. Lookin’ back now… makes sense why I wanted to go rush to get the ring, it was an impulse I couldn’t get over even when I thought I was bein’ a little crazy. I couldn’t explain it, but I just knew it was only ever gonna be Phel.”

Sett’s golden eyes automatically find Aphelios, and they smile at each other, remembering what that first night had felt like. But suddenly something changes in the Vastayan’s face, and he interrogates his mother, desperate.

“Wait a sec,” he rushes, panicked, “it may have been like that for me, but what about Phel? I didn’t accidentally cast some Vastaya spell on him, ‘n make him bound to me or love me more than he normally would, right?”

His mother laughs but not mockingly, soothing her son hastily. “No, dear. The declaration must be mutual, the intention to share life must be mutual. You must have said something to each other, a promise, beyond just a confession of your feelings. Technically, yes, Vastaya can speak spells that charm others, especially humans, but such magic is frail and would have faded completely after you’d spent time apart, were it not shared by both of you, equally and sincerely. Your separations from each other prove that the love is true, but… you shouldn’t need time apart or me to tell you that Aphelios’ feelings for you are totally genuine, Settrigh.”

Sett sits back, relieved but also feeling guilty for having questioned Aphelios’s affection at all, but the Lunari just brushes it off because he understands why Sett was worried, and though he’s feeling shy for the intimacy of their relationship to be discussed like this, he also feels warm and overcome with a fond memory. 

The words I’m in if you’re in, I love you refuse to leave his mind, and he feels sure that this simple but sincere declaration from Sett, returned by Aphelios with his whole heart, had sealed them joyfully together.

“But you ‘n Dad woulda made a declaration like that too, right? ‘N he just up ‘n left us. What the f—uh, what good is a declaration and sharin’ your magic with someone if they can just piss off when they feel like it?”

Aphelios wishes dearly that he could reach Sett’s hand from where he’s sitting, but the wide table won’t allow it. The beast-man has shrunken a little again, and his words carry the hurt of a child abandoned.

“The declaration is only a promise,” Momma explains gently, without pain in her voice. It’s clear she’s found peace with the betrayal of Sett’s father that their child has yet to totally achieve. “It reflects the hearts that have made it, and hearts can always change.”

“Mine won’t,” Sett swears emphatically, meaning it completely, never having been more sure of anything in his life. He can just feel it in his bones.

“Members of our tribe are known for mating for life,” Momma agrees, and though he feels it’s none of his business, Aphelios can’t help but wonder sadly if that also means that whoever Sett’s father was would be Momma’s one and only partner. “But more importantly, you are a better man than your papa, Settrigh.”

A moment of silence falls, everyone is respectful of how meaningful and bittersweet it would be for Sett to hear those words. Eventually, he clears his throat and rises decisively, the other three assuming this is a signal that their little meeting is done for now, but Sett walks over to where Aphelios is seated before stooping to hug him tightly from behind.

“Guess I got lucky,” he says tremulously, and Aphelios can’t help but smile fondly at how emotional Sett has been since their reunion. “Lucky that I fell for one o’ the only humans whose heart is just as true.”

The Lunari is glad that Sett knows that he is in this for life too, but he does get shy at the thought of such effusive, intimate things being said in front of his sister and future mother-in-law.

“Oh dear,” Momma laughs, “my son is turning out to be quite the sentimental groom.”

Everyone, including Sett, shares a few chuckles over the loving remark, and the weight of the subject matter disperses. But even if it’s not more significant disclosures, Sett isn’t totally ready for a change of topic.

“But, uh, hey Ma,” the skin underneath his dark scar turns rosy as the beast-man goes through another bashful spell. “Is there uh… are there any risks to sharin’ your magic with a human? You can’t hurt ‘em or nothin’ right? And uh… what does it feel like? Is it nice…?”

Momma thinks for a moment, bringing her hand to her chin.

“Truthfully, I am not sure how to describe it for you. My experience was… hm, what’s the human word for it now… oh! Synesthesia. You know that I experience the world much differently than you do. Do you remember when you used to ask me things like how I could taste your laughter? Or why I would say you were acting very red. You used to feel it too, but you suppressed it when you understood that the humans thought such a blending of the senses made you peculiar. And you were so desperate to fit in.”

Sett scowls, pulling a chair out so he can sit close to Phel, unconsciously reaching to lay a hand on his leg again, because the subject matter is once more bringing up unpleasant memories, and the feeling of Aphelios’ warmth under his palm grounds the beast-man.

“I don’t remember that,” he speaks haltingly, the recollections incomplete, or purposefully forgotten. “I mean I don’t remember what that was like, bein’ able to hear colours or taste people’s feelin’s. But I do remember the first fight I got into was with some kids who said I was dumb for sayin’ I felt salty. I tried to explain, I ‘member I said it ‘cause you had said it ‘n it made sense, but then they just called you a freak too ‘n I tried to deck ‘em.”

“I remember that day as well,” she says, injecting comfort into her voice for her son’s sake. “That was the age that you started to be so fixated on being ‘normal.’ You began dampening your magic as much as it would let you and… oh, Settrigh… I let you do it because I just wanted you to survive. I wanted you to feel as safe and ‘normal’ as you could growing up. But I should have pressed it more once you were grown. There is so much you don’t know, so much you’ve been deprived of because of my mistakes.”

“Don’t talk like that, Momma,” Sett cuts in, emphatic. “You’re the best mom anyone could’ve ever had, ‘n I know there were times you tried ‘n I just didn’t wanna hear it ‘n I just argued with you or yelled at ya, actin’ like a little shit—oops, sorry Ma. Like a little brat. Anyway, it ain’t your fault.”

“Well,” she smiles gently, sipping at her tea, “you know it is within you, that much is beyond doubt. But that’s what it’s like, a blending of your senses and a profound sense of connection between the two of you and with the earth. And you have someone who is safe to be yourself with, and that’s really all there is to it. There are no magical words, no ritual. It will happen if you wish for it too, sweets.”

The romantic, if vague, simplicity of this sinks in a little, before Momma light-heartedly speaks again.

“That being said, if you can’t figure it out after trying, I can give you some more advice.” 

The implication that his mother is offering to give Sett some pointers on his love life is amusing but mortifying, and Sett groans and grumbles as Momma gives more funny little smiles, with Alune laughing and Aphelios laughing too, but feeling hot and sweaty from all the blushing. Privately though, both men stow away the deep desire to share something that sounds so special and miraculous, and Sett decides that no matter what it takes, even if it’s more insanely awkward talks with his mother, he’ll find a way to experience this gift fully with his soulmate.

They spend a little more time discussing the ceremony and with plans both short-term and long-term made, Alune and Sett schedule hitting the town together starting tomorrow, and Aphelios rises to help Momma clear the tea things. Overall, a sense of optimism and excitement gains momentum once more. 

Aphelios is bored out of his mind, enough that he’s starting to go squirrely. 

He’s already forced himself to have a nap—a failure of a nap that amounted to about ten minutes total of a light drowse—he’s searched for things to clean in Sett’s immaculate mansion, he’s tried to spend time in the backyard only to find he got too hot too quickly, and he’s tried and failed to locate any reading materials in said immaculate mansion.

Sett had left a heaping purse full of gold on the counter with an open invitation for Aphelios to use whatever he needed if he felt like going shopping himself, before heading out with Alune that morning. But even as bored as he is, the Lunari isn’t in the mood for aimless wandering in the city, and though he would really like to perhaps buy some books, he’s unable to persuade himself to frivolously spend his fiancé’s money even though he knows it’s what Sett would want.

He flounces down on one of Sett’s couches, staring up at the ceiling, dying to know how his sister and fiancé are getting along and mulling over the newfound information that he is not very good at relaxing.

It’s a lovely day by Ionian standards; the sun is shining brilliantly and the humid heat is bringing out the heady perfume of flowers. But for a Targonian woman used to the crisp, cool climes of the mountains and the incorporeal neutrality of the spirit realm, the island summer is intense, and the first order of business is the purchasing of a wide-brimmed sun hat to protect Alune from sweltering.

Perhaps some would consider them to be an unlikely team, but they make an excellent one, and they’ve confirmed the venue for the reception dinner, the catering for both days, and booked a live music group within mere hours of starting. They still have to place orders for flowers and table-settings and fireworks—yes, Sett had been entirely serious about the fireworks—but they’ve stopped at teppanyaki restaurant for a late lunch, both famished from the flurry of the morning.

However, given the busyness of the morning and the fact there was always a task at hand that they could talk about, they’ve discussed very little of substance, and the silent wait for their food to be grilled is decidedly awkward. Sett nervously sucks on the straw of his sweet tea he’s already finished, making a terrible slurping sound, and Alune examines her fingernails.

“I was thinkin’,” Sett finally braves, attempting a way to break the ice that isn’t just throwing Alune in the deep end; questions such as ‘why the fuck would you ever insinuate in that letter that I was going to be unfaithful to your brother’ are definitely off limits, even though sometimes it’s all Sett can think about. “Rho deserves a vacation, she’s been pickin’ up a lot of the slack around the pit recently. I was gonna send her to a real famous hot spring spa up north, ‘n she could probably use a friend to go with her, if you were interested.”

“A spa vacation?” Alune’s tone is a little mistrustful, but the Vastayan is beginning to get used to this as one of her default moods. 

Sett nods but when she doesn’t follow up with her agreement or disagreement or even any more questions, the beast-man is at a loss. He reminds himself to be patient, Alune spent five years living in the spirit realm, and hadn’t ventured outside her insular culture before that, so this is probably all very new for her....

“Are you attempting to buy my affection?” she asks suddenly, but her tone is the same skeptical one… at least it makes it clear that she genuinely wants to know and this isn’t just a vicious challenge.

It still pisses Sett right off.

“What? No! What the fuck is that supposed to mean, anyway?”

Alune doesn’t have an answer, and instead she just stares at the tabletop, looking miserable.

It’s really unfair of her to do that, Sett fumes to himself, to put him in that position with such a nasty question. If it were anyone else, he’d have a few choice cuss words for her before he stormed out… but it’s Alune, it’s Phel’s twin… and he wants so badly to make this work.

He forces his inflamed temper to calm, the way he’s learned to do as he matured, largely thanks to Aphelios’ influence.

“Well, I don’t think I am,” he admits, a huge effort on his part to fix things. “But I dunno. I want ya to like me. But I also ain’t used to or very interested in changin’ people’s opinions of me once they’ve made ‘em. ‘N so if me tryin’ to give ya a bit of a peace offering comes across as me ‘buyin’ your affection,’ then I guess I don’t really know what to do ‘bout that.”

Sett rubs his furrowed brow with his knuckles, still trying to calm down, even though it’s so hard because whenever he thinks of the letter Alune wrote, the letter he knows nearly by heart because he hate-read it so many times, his blood steams and his teeth ache from clenching. He does not forgive injuries to his pride or insults to his loyalty very easily, and he is able to forgive the objectification of Aphelios even less. Anyone else saying those things would have had an appointment with his knuckle dusters.

“But I really wanna know where the fuck you get these ideas ‘bout me, Alune. Like why you wrote in your letter that I should just break up with Phel, why you’d ever say somethin’ like ‘if you still love my brother,’ as if something as dumb as bein’ far away from him for a bit could change how I feel about him.”

Alune’s gaze falls back to the tabletop—she’d managed eye contact with Sett for a bit, but now he sees that her face is red and her lips are tightly pursed. He can’t decide if her reaction makes him angrier, or just confused. He decides, though, that if she can’t be bothered to say her piece, then he’ll just seize the opportunity to speak his mind, and at least achieve the catharsis of letting her know exactly how her shitty little letter made him feel.

“’N I can’t tell ya how much it pissed me off to read you say that I should ‘give him back to you.’ That Targon is where he belongs. I know you Lunari guys got real used to usin’ Phel like he was a tool, but I expected better from you. No one owns him, and he belongs wherever the fuck he wants to be. I hoped for better from ya, because a lotta the time, you were all he had. It ain’t my business to fuck around with your relationship with each other, ‘n when he started writin’ to me honestly he did say that you guys talked through shit ‘n it got resolved, so I’ll leave that where it is. 

“But I needed you to hear it from me that there ain’t nothin’ as important to me on this planet than Phel bein’ happy ‘n safe, other than my own mother bein’ happy ‘n safe. I know most o’ that shit’s all done with, after Phel risked his life yet again to save everyone, but I’m tellin’ you now. No matter who they are, I won’t tolerate people usin’ Phel anymore, ‘n I won’t tolerate anyone talkin’ about me like I ain’t in this shit for life, like I’m just some asshole here for a good time while it lasts. 

“I’d die for him, Alune. In a second. ‘N I’d kill for him even quicker. I can move past it once, but don’t you dare question how faithful I am to him, ever again. Even if you are his twin, I ain’t gonna stand for it. Ya get me?”

Alune is unresponsive and her gaze downcast for so long that Sett is close to losing his patience totally, he feels foolish and disappointed and angry that he can’t fix this weird relationship, when he knows the sourness will hurt Aphelios, and when he would sincerely like to get to know Alune properly, and let her get to know him, so she can trust that he has her brother’s best interest at heart, always. He’s about to cancel their order and summon the rickshaw to take them home, when he hears her sniffle.

“I am sorry,” she says at last, now looking at the wall and wiping her eyes in frustration.

Sett immediately softens. 

“Hey now,” he soothes, automatically reaching for one of her hands in her lap before realizing that might be too weird and he settles for patting her shoulder stiltedly instead. “Ya know what, I’m sorry too. I came outta the gates swingin’ and I tend t’get carried away if I feel like I ain’t gettin’ answers. But I didn’t realize you were just upset. Sorry for doin’ this in public, I’d never want ya to feel embarrassed.”

Finally, she turns back to him, looking up into his face, her eyes and the tip of her nose red, just like Phel’s got whenever he cried too.

“Thank you.” Firmly, she wipes the last of her tears. “While I certainly would have preferred you accuse me of these things in private… your accusations are fair, Sett. I am ashamed of what I put in that letter, of the things I said. And I realize now that as much as those words came from a place of distrusting you and resenting you, they came from me not trusting Aphelios even more.”

This admission takes Sett totally off-guard, but he’s careful not to interrupt like he’s desperate to, as Alune explains.

“I did not trust him to be on his own,” she confesses. “I was not prepared for what it would feel like to be separated from him, to feel how he trusted you as completely as he trusted me. I was worried he would stray or lose faith. I did not trust him to love you or be loved by you and not be distracted. And when he shut me out, I did not trust that that was what he truly thought was best, I thought it was his conflicted heart, or a lack of willpower.”

Again… Sett has to emphatically suppress the urge to interrupt. Alune had let him say everything that was on his mind, and he should return the courtesy… but boy was it ever a challenge to hear her (or anyone) say those things about Aphelios and not instantly correct them. But he can tell Alune understands how wrong she was, and he wants to hear how she feels now; he wants to see how different she is from the hurt and desperate woman who wrote that awful letter.

“I understand now how gravely I was underestimating him. He is the strongest person I know, and our entire race would have been lost if anyone else had been entrusted with their salvation. But my brother’s true strength is in his heart, and I do see how he loves you with all of it. You helped him heal and be even stronger, and you saw him in a way that I was… well, it is ironic; it was because I was too close to him that I could not see the man he’d grown to be, I saw only what I wanted to, and memories of the child he was. But you saw him truly and you helped him see it too.

“I cannot totally regret sending that letter, for I still recall my fear and helplessness. And the fate of our tribe was hanging in the balance. I was so scared, and Aphelios was lying to us both, even though he was just trying to survive. But you do not need to persuade me of your faithfulness or of the sincerity of your feelings for him. The fact that you were able to help him save himself and return to the man he was created to be, and to do so only through letters no less… the fact that you encouraged him to mend our misunderstandings and find the courage to help me get to know him again, the real him… I owe you a debt I can never hope to repay, Sett. I apologize for being so rude to you, and for—” she momentarily struggles to find the right word “—for temporarily being unable to see the man you truly are, too.”

Emotions in a tumult, Sett just looks down at Alune, at a loss for words; especially a way to express how much he appreciates her apology and how relieved he is to know that she is willing to accept Sett in her brother’s life, and as a positive influence.

“Oh my,” she smiles suddenly, laughing softly. “Your ears…”

As soon as she says it, Sett realizes his ears were bent low, almost beseechingly, a sign he’s feeling a little overwhelmed, but in a good way. They flicker up immediately, causing Alune to laugh again.

“They are terribly endearing,” she continues, making Sett blush and splutter through an incoherent response. “It is much different seeing you in person, rather than through Phel’s eyes when he was on the noctum. And I am glad you gave me a chance to clear the air. I admit it took me far too long to realize it, but you were part of Mother Moon’s plan all along. Thank you for inviting me to spend this time with you.”

Sett grins at her, and at that moment their food arrives. But he doesn’t want to start eating without acknowledging what she’s said. 

“Honestly Lu, I feel like the pleasure’s all mine. Thanks for lettin’ me get to know ya, and for your apology. It means a lot." 

Alune has never been given a nickname before, and though she keeps the thought to herself, she realizes she loves it.

"Alright! Let's eat, we’ve certainly worked hard enough to earn it!”

They eagerly dig in, happily able to enjoy a good meal now that the tension has truly been cleared. However, Alune’s remark about seeing Sett through Aphelios’ eyes reminds the beast-man of his burning curiosity; he’d loved hearing Alune good-naturedly expose her brother at the restaurant the first night they’d arrived. He decides to test his new-made friendship with his future sister-in-law, and isn’t disappointed.

“Now, what’re the chances you’ll indulge me ‘n tell me all the embarrassin’ stories and secrets about your bro?” 

Alune looks at him questioningly, but with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What exactly would you like to know?”

Sett is pleased and surprised she is so amendable. “No way. You’ll really tell me? I’ve been dyin’ to know stuff like… well, do ya remember what Phel thought about me at first? Stuff like that. ‘N he gets too shy or coy to tell me himself, or he doesn’t remember if the noctum was involved.”

The Seer’s face breaks into a wide, conspiratorial smile, and without hesitation, she enthusiastically supplies information that Aphelios would no doubt find mortifying were he around to hear how readily his sister is betraying him.

“Oh I remember it well. He absolutely loved your ears. Truthfully he thought you were a bit of a lout the first time you met, but he’d never seen a Vastaya with ears that moved like yours. And he would never admit it, he might not even realize it himself, but he has a special affinity for red hair.”

Sett laughs heartily. “No way! Well, I really can’t blame him for thinkin’ I was bein’ an ass that first night, ‘cause I really was. I was a lot younger, not just age-wise but mentally, ya know. Glad I didn’t biff my chances entirely.”

“Well,” Alune hedges, “deep down he was very irritated you made him wait that first time we came to you for information, and with your posturing. He thought you were too arrogant and cunning, although he did think your attempt at procuring intelligence for us was thorough. Truthfully, he did not give you much of a second thought after we left that first time other than planning on coming back for updates—oh, I imagine that may not be pleasant to hear. I apologize.”

“…Nah,” Sett rubs his stubble with his knuckles. “I really didn’t do much to earn his respect early on, ‘n I was bein’ a shithead about tryin’ to get in his pants. Oh, sorry, shouldn’t be sayin’ stuff like that to his sis. But it took me too long to see him for him.”

“Not as long as you think,” she smiles. “It was the first time we returned to you, after the initial contact in your pit. The way you looked at him and what you asked him about—although now I can hardly remember what it was—he felt the change in you. That you were taking our plight seriously, and that you had grown to respect him. He did not think that all consciously, for he was on the noctum, but I could feel him… thaw toward you.

“And by the fourth visit, when you invited him to dinner, I could tell, he had somehow ended up totally smitten. It caught us both by surprise.”

She breaks off speaking, interrupted by a sudden flurry of giggles.

“Oh, Mother Moon, listening to his thoughts about your ears and your sharp teeth and the jokes you were making that night, haha! Oh and please, do not take offense, but I thought your humour to be rather corny, but Phel loved it, even as I was commenting on it. He was hopeless! What a fun night that was, the first carefree night we had had in such a long time…”

Sett grins, unbothered because he knows his humour is low-brow and often dumb, and he thinks it’s even cuter that Alune would have been poking fun of him in Phel’s head, but her brother had caught a massive crush regardless.

“I am grateful to you, Sett,” Alune beams. That night was a wonderful memory, and she’s reconnecting with the sincere enjoyment both she and Aphelios had experienced in those early days. “You are indeed charming and handsome, but Aphelios fell in love because he felt you were the only one in this realm who cared for him. And cared for him without motive, without expectation or repayment. I still cannot thank you enough for showing him kindness… I think it saved him. It surely saved his humanity.”

“He saved mine,” Sett tells her unequivocally. “Like I’m sure you could tell, I was on autopilot those days. Livin’ for nothin’ so long as the money was comin’ in an’ Ma was safe. I barely remember those days, one night of gettin’ sloshed and fuckin’ around is the same as the next. ‘N then I met your brother ‘n all of a sudden I figured out why people get interested in workin’ on themselves, bein’ better than they were yesterday, or at least tryin’.”

Alune beams at him, and the way they had misunderstood each other so gravely feels almost totally forgotten; they are completely enjoying getting to know each other now.

“He will be so cross with me,” she continues deviously, “which is exactly why I should tell you about how long he took to get ready before seeing you. He took forever. Hours! He put so much care into his appearance. Like his eye-liner had to be just so. And, oh dear… the time spent on trying to control his hair—you know that little piece in the back, the one that sticks up?”

“His cowlick?” Sett confirms, a gleeful glint in his eye as Alune continues ratting on her brother without shame. “I love that little cowlick. It’s goddamn adorable.”

Alune cackles. “He saw you staring at it so much, and thought you did so because it was unsightly. He spent so much time trying to make it lay flat! I tried to tell him that I could tell by the look on your face that you thought him to be very handsome, but he would not hear of it, he can be so stubborn…”

On and on their conversation goes, the minutes melting by unnoticed as they chat. By the time they’re finished lunch, Sett’s ego is monstrously inflated and his head is full of the adorable secrets Alune has spilled. And better yet, they leave feeling like they are truly family.

It’s been just over a week since Aphelios’ reunion with Sett, with two of those days consisting of being left to his own devices while his fiancé and sister took care of wedding details, and one day with both of them at home that had somehow felt just as busy. Now, Sett has had to return to long days at work and Alune is on her way with Rhoanna to a spa vacation outside the city for a couple days. It had been made clear that Phel was welcome to come along on the trip too, but he’s not ready to be apart from Sett again so soon, even if they’re only able to spend nights together asleep, and frankly, he doesn’t think he would enjoy a stranger touching his body even for something like a massage or skin treatment. 

Getting truly desperate for diversion, on the second day of his solitude Aphelios had finally gone into town and purchased some books, and he’d also managed to gather the courage to shop for a surprise he planned to give Sett on their wedding night. But the fact remains that he’s struggling being on his own, with nothing but reading to do; he still spends hours training and keeping in shape, but in a way, this bothers him because it makes him wonder if he’ll ever need his skills as an assassin again, and he finds it all too easy for unpleasant memories to resurface when his mind is allowed to wander for too long. However, seeing how genuinely friendly Sett and Alune had become after their time alone together, the Lunari had decided that his private stress at being left at home was completely worth it.

He’s on the porch, not really concentrating on the technical biological manual detailing the different species of Vastaya in his lap, instead thinking about the three days ahead of him where his own beloved half-Vastayan won't be home until nighttime and his sister is away completely, when he hears the guards letting someone in at the gate. He looks up eagerly, wondering if perhaps Sett has decided to play hooky from work after all, but he instead sees a distinct diminutive figure that belies a fierce woman with a formidable temper: Momma.

“Don’t let me disturb your well-deserved rest, honey,” she calls out as she sees him rise eagerly to greet her.

He good-naturedly disregards her statement and rushes to help her with the light basket she’s carrying. “Please, disturb away. I am going a little stir crazy here, all by myself.”

“Really?” Momma cranes her neck to look up at Aphelios in surprise. “I would have thought you were one to enjoy quiet alone time.”

“Oh…” he bumbles through a reply, a little flustered. “I do, or, I suppose, I am very used to being alone. But most of the time I was ‘alone’ with Alune, or I had a task to complete. The only task Sett is letting me complete right now is reading and napping or spending his money, and, I must confess, I am not very good at enjoying myself this way.”

Momma smiles. “I know what you mean. Settrigh makes sure I want for nothing, but I just can’t bring myself to fritter away my days sitting on my tush while someone else cleans my house or cares for my garden. Speaking of my garden, I came to bring him some tomatoes, because I am a very selfish mother and I’ll foist my excess produce on my son who will never refuse. I have so many tomatoes I don’t know what to do with them!”

Escorting her inside the mansion and offering her a cool drink as he puts the tomatoes on the kitchen windowsill to finish ripening, he contemplates any pretext to keep Momma here, just for the pleasure of her company. 

“You’d think Settrigh could take a few weeks off for his own fiancé and meeting his new sister, what with him being his own boss.” Momma sips the iced tea Aphelios had made her, and he joins her at the kitchen table, trying not to look too eager for the conversation.

“He wanted to, but there was a large building project that had complications. Unfortunately, he has to oversee it himself.” Aphelios doesn’t like lying to Momma whatsoever, but it’s not like he can say that Sett had no choice but to go to the pits to deal with a group stirring up trouble that Sett suspected was doing so on behalf of a Noxian competitor.

Momma clucks her tongue, and at first Aphelios thinks there’s something wrong with the tea. “There’s no shortage of trouble when one is running fighting pits. It’s still not an excuse for him to leave you at loose ends here, although I suppose he has been working Rhoanna to the bone and it was right of him to send her off for some pampering. But he should just ask that other fellow to deal with it—the cranky, silent one, I can’t recall his name now, although he is rather handsome. Anyway, I’m sure the pits would survive.”

Aphelios realizes too late that he’s staring wide-eyed at Momma, openly astonished and totally unprepared for the ‘construction biz’ farce to be dismantled, and he prays that Momma wasn’t fishing in the dark and his unguarded expression of shock is confirmation her son has been deceiving her.

“Do an old woman a favour and don’t look quite so surprised that I have it figured out,” she laughs merrily as Aphelios reels. “I’m over two hundred and fifty years old, and I had a baby with a pit fighting champion. I know the signs, the type of wounds. Settrigh couldn’t fool me when he told me those injuries came from a ruckus with bullies or from manual labour, he’s a smart boy in his own way, but a mother always knows.”

“Sett has no idea you know. Why not tell him you do?” The question is asked neutrally, out of curiosity.

Momma ponders for a bit, then answers. “I suppose I could, but I don’t want him to be upset. He goes to such lengths to try and protect me, and it’s hard to explain why, but I feel like I would hurt him more to tell him I know. I am not bothered he lies to me, he does it with a pure heart, to try and protect me from worrying about him. Sweet boy.”

Aphelios’ heart palpitates a little; he feels a mix of affection, unexpected nervousness, pride, and something like envy. He loves hearing the way Momma talks about Sett, and can’t help but wonder what his own parents would have said about him, if they would have spoken of him with such a gentle abundance of love.

“Yes, he does wish to protect you. He believes it would cause you undue worry. And most of all, I think, that you would be so disappointed in him.” Aphelios muses. “How long have you known?”

“Oh dear… let’s see… it’s so hard for me to keep track of human time, but it’s been many years. Settrigh was only just coming of age… so probably since he was thirteen or fourteen? I made him swear he wouldn’t go near those pits, I was so scared of what he’d get caught up in with that crowd, and what they’d do to him. And much worse, I was so worried someone would tell him something about his father. A child doesn’t need to know their parent abandoned them out of boredom and greed.”

Aphelios gives a shallow nod as his heart begins to hurt for Sett and for his mother who had tried so hard to protect his innocence. He and Sett had only ever spoken of the specific details once, even though the topic of Sett’s father had been brought up several times. It was one of the greatest sources of pain for the beast-man to think about how his father had bought out his pit contract and abandoned his family, just so he could make a shinier dime and get more glory on another continent. Aphelios agreed with Momma, that no child should ever discover that kind of truth, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her that her boy had long known the ugly facts.

“We had so many fights about it, and he started sneaking out, getting into more brawls,” Momma recalls. “That’s when I began to realize that I couldn’t stop him, and it scared me more to think that if I kept making his life a living hell yelling at him and punishing him, that he might run away, sell himself into the pits for good and go try to find his father, and I would have lost them both. So I pretended to believe him when he said he’d found construction work, because when I did that he came home every morning.”

She sets her tea down and reaches to lay a soft, small hand on top of Phel’s larger, longer one. “You won’t tell him dear, will you? He’s made so much of himself, I’m so terribly proud of him, so he doesn’t need to worry. And I will talk to him about his father, soon. When I know he’s ready to hear everything.”

“I will not say anything,” Aphelios promises sincerely. “It is very important to me to respect the secrets of others.”

“Such a good boy too,” Momma murmurs, gently patting his hand before finishing her tea and rising, refusing to let him clear her cup and taking it to the kitchen to wash herself, clearly at home. ItIt seems she is preparing to leave to keep going about her day, and though Aphelios wishes he could find some natural pretext to keep her there and talk more, he is grateful that even this short conversation and Momma’s effusive love have left him with a happy glow.

Out on the porch, back in the summer heat, Momma makes Aphelios stoop a little so she can kiss his cheek and fix his collar where it’s crooked. 

“I can’t imagine it will be all that fun for you, so please don’t feel bad saying no, but know that you’re welcome to come back home with me, there’s plenty of work to be done in my garden, if you are really missing something to keep your hands busy.”

Without needing even a second to think it over, Aphelios eagerly nods his head. “I would love to help you.”

“How delightful! We’ll just ask one of the guards to tell Settrigh to come meet us there instead of looking for you here. Come, dear.” 

It’s a glorious day, one of the happiest Aphelios can ever remember experiencing. At first it’s a bit hot in his Targonian clothes, but Momma digs out a loose cotton short-sleeve tunic from Sett’s adolescence and gives it to Aphelios to change into, and brings him drinks and snacks before he even recognizes he’s thirsty or peckish, and soon he’s enjoying the summer thoroughly.

He loves the feeling of his hands in the warm, nutrient rich soil; he helps Momma relocate some azalea bushes to a shadier part of the garden, he helps her weed the pumpkin and squash patch. She’s delighted when she realizes he’s tall enough to pick her some of the apples ripening on her tree. 

He feels much like a little sprout that day; greedily soaking up the vital maternal warmth, the random, trivial facts she tells him about the care and nurturing of all these different living things, the radiant joy of a place that is a well-loved, welcoming home. His now, too, Momma tells him.

When the day finally concludes—it’s well past dinner when Sett finally comes to pick up Aphelios to return to the city—Momma and Aphelios make plans for more of the same on the morrow, much to Sett’s vocal delight. He’s tickled pink to see his lover in one of his old shirts that would rip at the seams if Sett wore it now, and even more so to see the slight sunburn Phel has on his cheeks and nose, places that will feel so warm against Sett’s lips when he kisses them later.

The next day is even lovelier, the sun feels a little gentler and there is a refreshing breeze this time. Sett’s mother is grateful for it as she emerges from the humidity of her orchid greenhouse, it’s time for lunch and she plans to find Aphelios to ask him what he’d like to eat. She’d given him a couple simple tasks to choose from (or he was welcome to do none at all and just enjoy himself amidst the flowers) and after looking around for a few moments, she comes up behind him, inadvertently quiet enough that he doesn’t realize he’s being watched. She permits herself a moment or two of indulgent observation of this young man she’s comes so quickly to cherish like she’d given birth to him too.

Aphelios is in another of Sett’s airy shirts, wearing a straw hat to avoid more sun on his face after being careless the day before. He is diligently checking the wire cages around some sunflower blooms in place to prevent the birds from eating all the seeds. The sunflowers are as tall as he is, and she smiles to herself at his thoroughness; she herself always tugged the flowers down, checked the cages briefly and moved on, neither the task nor the flowers required the excessive care Aphelios is demonstrating now. He cups the heads gently and guides the stalks into a gentle bend, before administering small repairs to the cheap cages, all the while so careful not to bruise the green stems. Momma thinks that he’s doing so because he’s too worried about ‘ruining’ her garden, but before she speaks to tell him not to stress himself, she catches the notes of a song that is immediately familiar.

Aphelios is humming to himself contentedly, though using his voice for music does emphasize some of the permanent damage the noctum had burnt into his vocal chords, leaving it a little rough and low. But the young man seems to be enjoying the rare loss of himself in the moment, as he wordlessly sings the old Vastayan lullaby Sett had once sung for him over and over, a tether in much darker times.

The pretending that he does about not being the owner of a fighting pit notwithstanding, there was almost nothing that Sett kept from his mother. Especially during the year he and Aphelios had to be apart, Momma had spent many an hour comforting her anguished son as he agonized over the current plight of his beloved, as well as when he’d gotten helplessly angry for the things Phel had already been put through. And so, she knows what he has endured, the things he has had to overcome to be able to be here. And even if her son hadn’t told her in words, she can sense enough of the Lunari’s sho’ma that she intuits his is the kind of strength that one develops when one has had no other choice—the kind of strong one had to be when not being strong enough meant you would be destroyed. So she can’t help but feel deeply moved to stumble upon Aphelios as he is now; safe and healthy and happy enough that he is humming to himself.

She clears her throat, partly because it’s feeling a bit tight but also to softly alert Aphelios to her presence without startling him, and he beams down at her as she approaches and acts like she’s looking over his handiwork for the first time.

“They’ve never looked better,” she announces before turning back to him and asking meaningfully, “how are you, my dear?”

He catches the depth in her tone and the look in her eyes and seems to understand that she’s not just asking if he’s a little tired or thirsty or ready for lunch, though she cares about those things too. She’s asking much more generally, almost like how he is doing now, after everything he’s been through.

He thinks over his answer carefully.

“I never thought I could be so happy,” he tells her.

“Good,” she replies back, sounding very satisfied. “It’s what you deserve, sweet pea. Especially after taking such good care of my son. You’ve certainly brought out the best in him. Although, that makes it sound as if you’re not my son now, too. Unless that makes you uncomfortable…?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he says softly. “I cannot help but feel as if I am the luckier one by far. You have treated me with so much kindness. I enjoy your company very much.”

And then, adding after thinking about what Momma had said: “and your son is the one who took care of me, and brought out my best. I owe him and Alune everything I have now.”

“Take the compliment,” she instructs with good humour and a broad smile. “Sure, you took care of each other, but you’re the only person my soft little son has felt safe being himself with. You’re the protector of his gentle soul, and I thank you for that.”

They look at each other and Momma can see how Aphelios is hanging on her every word, soaking her appreciation up like a plant reaches for sunbeams.

“The world has been very unkind to him,” she elaborates, partly because she’s never had anyone else to really talk about this to; even her few friends thought of her son as a bit of a meathead thug. “But that boy has so much love to give and it has brought me great relief to see him be able to finally do that. It may not be the Vastaya custom but I am so excited for your wedding, when we will all get to celebrate such a lovely thing all together.”

Aphelios says nothing, though his lips part several times to try. The expression on his face and the way his eyes are shining make it clear, Momma can tell he’s feeling overwhelmed.

“Would you like a hug?” she asks.

He nods emphatically and they embrace each other, Momma’s head barely reaching Phel’s chest. They are two members of an unlikely new chosen family, brought together purely because of love.

Sett is in a great mood as he walks up the cobbled path to his mother’s cottage. Things at the pit had finally settled down, the trouble enough under control that Sett had felt okay leaving a little earlier than usual. He’d been devastated to miss out on eating his mom’s home cooked dinner with Aphelios not once but twice now, and there’s no way he’ll arrive too late for a third time in a row. But he has to admit, the idea of his mooncake having such a great time hanging out with his mother that he’d do so three days in a row makes the beast-man outrageously happy. He isn’t sure where his new sentimentality is coming from or why so suddenly, but last night when he’d come in on those two in a head-to-head battle via card game, with Aphelios actually groaning and laughing when Momma had drawn the card he’d needed… it had made happy tears well hotly in Sett’s eyes.

The tip of his nose is itching with slight tearfulness even now, he’s just so happy Aphelios is finally getting showered in maternal love, and Sett is elated by the idea of Momma getting to know Phel better. But he is snapped out of his emotionality when something lightly hits his shoulder. He looks around, finding an acorn rolling away from him… he looks around again more thoroughly and figures it must have fallen from a tree and chanced to bounce off of him. Weird though, since Sett wasn’t walking under any trees when it happened. He brushes it off and keeps heading to the house only to feel another nut hit him, this time on his back, and he whirls around but sees nothing. This repeats twice more, the last bouncing off his butt, before he growls in helpless bewilderment and sprints into the cottage.

“Ma!” he hollers, and she calls back that she’s in the living room, whose window overlooks the entry path. “When I get back to the city,” he says, hastily kissing the top of her head and sheepishly removing his shoes when she admonishes him for having them on inside, “I’m gonna hire some pest control guys to come out here. Ya have a squirrel infestation or somethin’, little bast—little brats were hittin’ me with their acorns. Usually they just chatter at me but damn, those buggers have great aim. Say, where’s Phel?”

Momma gestures with her chin behind Sett, to where the Lunari has just come in from the garden too. “Sett was just saying that there were some very pesky squirrels, throwing nuts at him. Can you believe it Aphelios? I’ve never heard of squirrels being that clever.”

The beast-man misses his mother’s poorly disguised smirk as he turns away from her to greet Phel with a kiss.

“If the squirrels were truly clever, they would not pick a fight with Sett,” Aphelios says with a straight face, his pocket chock full of acorns. Long alerted to Sett’s presence by the perimeter security, Momma had watched the entire attack, how Aphelios had employed his deadly assassin skills with the nuts, ducking out of sight behind the camellia every time Sett had tried to find the source of the projectiles. It had been quite the struggle not to bust up when her poor son had informed her of her ‘squirrel problem.’ But Sett’s already totally forgotten about it, mesmerized by something else.

“Phel, you have freckles!” Sett exclaims, taking Aphelios’ face into his hands. “Your sunburn turned into a tan, and now you got freckles on your nose.”

The Lunari is surprised and touches his cheeks self-consciously, it was a great taboo for Lunari to become suntanned. But it’s hard to hold onto the feeling as Sett launches a kissing assault on those same cheeks and the bridge of his nose, informing him shamelessly that he has got to stop finding ways to get even cuter.

Sett’s effusive display of affection only relents when Aphelios pinches him playfully, embarrassed to be gooey like this in front of Sett’s mother. But she seems unphased if not actively pleased, and she remarks that the garden seemed to do Aphelios a world of good indeed. The Lunari has to agree; although Targon had its own irreplaceable beauty, it was a mighty, intimidating beauty, and life on the mountain had always been too harsh for things like growing flowers simply for the sake of it, for many reasons. Aphelios has come to feel oddly at peace in the brilliant sunshine and the riot of colours and fragrances, so different from subterranean field of duskpetal flowers tended by the Duskbringers, or the frigid silence of the cave where he had grown the noctum. He still watches the moonrise every night and feels most comfortable when it’s dark outside, but he’s adjusted from his nocturnal schedule of sleeping during the day and going for weeks without seeing the noon sun much better than he’d thought he would have. And Momma’s garden has become one of his favourite places in Runeterra.

Not the least part of his new contentment was how he’d acclimated to Momma’s intuition and energy, sometimes so similar to Sett, but always preternaturally attentive and very wise. After getting past the initial anxiety of spending one on one time with his future mother-in-law and desperately wanting her to approve of him, Aphelios had realized that getting along with her was actually effortless. If every person had a musical note, then where some clashed, others organically created a beautiful harmony together, and he feels this easy harmony any time he is in the presence of either Sett or his mother.

Though the true culprit of the acorn ambush is never revealed, the trio have an evening filled with happiness, laughter and good food, before Momma kicks the boys out so she can go to bed. Spending the trip back to Sett’s house cuddling in the back of the rickshaw, they enjoy idle chatter about their days and share excitement that Alune and Rhoanna will be returning tomorrow.

Aphelios is ecstatic to have his sister back, and even happier when she seems to be glowing. She reports that she had an incredible time, her favourite part was a hair treatment that involved a thorough scalp massage. Alune has also become obviously close with Rhoanna, and the two share (or threaten?) that they spent many an hour planning the perfect bachelor party for Aphelios and advise him that he’d better be ready. When he responds with a skeptical look—what good could result from these two conspiring—they promise him in unison that he truly has nothing to worry about, that it will be a special day for him that they’ve taken seriously; he won’t be put on the spot or subjected to pranks or silly games. He’s unsure of whether Rhoanna can be trusted to not have secret mischief up her sleeve, but he can tell from his sister that she is earnestly excited to show him what they’ve thought up. 

The only thing that prevents their plans from being perfect is that Sett will not be coming; not only will most of it be during the time he has to work, but it’s also considered bad luck, and Sett will be getting his own party with his crew that Aphelios won’t be allowed to attend either. Both men protest at these silly protocols, especially since they’ve hardly been able to see each other recently, but Rhoanna insists that rules are rules, they’ll have plenty of time incessantly in each other’s company soon enough, and from what she’s heard of the details for the party being planned for Sett by his pit staff, she’s nearly certain Aphelios would be miserable if he attended.

The subject is changed when Alune can no longer contain her other source of excitement; she reveals a trunk of gifts that she brought back for her brother, for Sett and for Momma. Artisan eau de cologne, skin and hair treatments, bath tinctures and massage oils, as well as handicrafts from the mountain village close to the spa. 

“What didja buy for yourself?” Sett asks her after giving her a warm hug as thanks, Rhoanna had given Alune inside intel, and so all of the presents for the beast-man are perfectly tailored to his preferences.

“Oh,” she says a little shyly. “I didn’t get anything. The experience was enough. Thank you so much Sett, I had a wonderful time.”

“What? Aw, I gave ya that money so you could treat yourself! You deserve it. I shoulda given ya more, sorry ‘bout that.”

Alune gets even shier, but reassures Sett emphatically. “Not at all, you didn’t have to provide anything, and it was my choice to spend it on gifts. I just couldn’t stop finding things I thought everyone would enjoy, and that made me happy. It was my first time being able to purchase gifts like that for people, instead of having to make something. I loved the experience!” 

It’s heartwarming and makes Aphelios realize this is indeed the most he’s ever received from his sister, especially due to the fact that they had usually skipped giving each other presents all together. Sharing a birthday and spending every waking minute either with each other or in devoted work to their faith, it had been hard to ever come up with surprise gifts. But, he thinks, no matter how cliché, the best gift of all truly was knowing what a wonderful time she had, seeing his sister make her own friend, and understanding all of this was only possible because she had been permitted to return from the Marus Omegnum, when they’d never thought such an outcome would ever happen.

The subject is changed by accident again when Aphelios goes to hug Alune as well, and she notices how tanned he is for the first time.

“I didn’t know we got freckles!” she exclaims, a bit dubious. Having operated on a mostly nocturnal schedule, and following the practices of the Lunari where powder was used to emulate the white face of the Moon, neither had ever gotten a suntan before… in fact, to do so was nearly sacrilege. Aphelios is worried that Alune will be disappointed, especially since it’s hard to say whether the tan or freckles will fade in time for the essential wedding rituals, but she surprises him.

“They suit you so well,” she smiles. 

Gratitude floods him. He’s immensely proud of her for being a bit more flexible on the demanding Lunari customs, something they’ve been talking through recently, and this interaction proves she’s working on it. Adherence to all the strict rituals would no longer be possible for him given his new split lifestyle, but he’d explained it would never make him less faithful or dedicated. Having Alune compliment this small change that he’d actually begun to really like—when he looked in the mirror he felt like the reflection was that of a healthy person, and he’d felt handsome—shows that she trusts him, that she’s not going to lecture him about devotion, that she recognizes he’s already paid his dues.

Over a joyful lunch at a nearby seafood restaurant, they all catch up. Aphelios explains the reason for all his time in the sun, the girls do their best to make the boys jealous over all the pampering they got, and Sett animatedly updates Rhoanna about ‘pit bullshit.’ Unfortunately, he does have to go back later that afternoon and so Rhoanna offers to walk back with him, but Sett insists that he’ll meet her there in a bit instead. First, he’ll escort Phel and Alune home, get them settled, and then he’ll make his way to the coliseum. 

And so, they pay the bill and part ways, Alune announcing with a massive yawn that she is planning on having a nap the moment she sees her bed, the hours of carriage travel having really taken it out of her, and the two men promising she can rest as long as she wants.

Truthfully, with his sister firmly installed in her bedroom and Sett having to leave again so soon, Aphelios is feeling a little glum. He’s got a great book to read, but he still wishes they could all hang out a little longer, especially Sett. It feels like in the past week they haven’t had more than an hour to themselves when Sett didn’t have to be elsewhere or they weren't supposed to be falling asleep.

It seems Sett’s train of thought is on a similar, if not slightly more rudimentary track, because he grabs Aphelios by the wrist and pulls him to the bedroom, but he pins him against the closed door instead of heading to the bed, as Aphelios had expected.

Immediately, Sett’s mouth is all over Phel’s and all over his throat, guiding his shirt over his head, nipping at Phel’s collar bone before gentling and kissing the large scar on his shoulder. 

“I’m so fuckin’ horny Phel,” he says, muffled against Aphelios’ skin. “It don’t make any sense, but I miss ya.”

Aphelios smiles and takes Sett’s face in his hands, pressing his lips to the scar on his nose and passionately kissing him after telling him he feels the same.

“If I could, I’d bring ya to the office with me… there’s a new couch we should break in. Sometimes I stare at it when I gotta be doin’ paperwork and it drives me nuts thinkin’ ‘bout bendin’ you over the back of it. But the goddamn meetings never end these days.”

A heavy sigh escapes Aphelios’ lips as Sett stoops to suck on one of his nipples, pinching and rolling the other between his fingertips.

“Bend me over now instead,” he breathes, reaching for Sett’s visible arousal, but to his surprise, the Vastayan gently stops him, and for a moment Aphelios is worried that Sett will declare he doesn’t have time and has to head to the pit leaving them both wound up, but instead the bigger man drops to his knees.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ else even more, if you’re okay with me tryin’… Lemme go down on ya?”

Phel hesitates and his half-lidded eyes open fully again, and he looks at Sett questioningly.

“I wanna suck you off so bad. I even practiced.”

Aphelios goes red at the frankness of Sett’s dirty talk, but his cock also twitches, half-hard already. He’s always assumed that such an act was basically off limits due to Sett’s teeth; while Aphelios was curious enough to be willing to risk it, he hadn’t wanted to pressure the Vastayan when it was clear he was so nervous about hurting him. But none of that unsurety is present now, Sett just looks ravenous, and his white pants show the rock-solid outline of his own stiffness.

“On cucumbers!” Sett blurts suddenly, confusing enough that Aphelios snaps out of his delirium for a moment. “I practiced on cucumbers, not on other people.”

Aphelios blinks a few times, still trying to work through this seemingly random information before he bursts out laughing.

“You don’t need to clarify it wasn’t with others Sett, it didn’t even occur to me. But cu…cucumbers…” He is laughing so hard it’s difficult to finish the sentence, but he struggles through it because he doesn’t want Sett to think he’s being laughed at . “I am so lucky you would do that so you could feel safe making me feel good, but… I can’t… I keep imagining all these cucumbers with teeth marks… julienned cucumbers…”

It’s no use and Aphelios loses himself to laughter over the endearing mental image.

“Hey!” Sett pouts. “I did it until there wasn’t a single tooth mark anywhere! Do you know how sick I got of eatin’ cucumbers ‘cause I didn’t want ‘em to go to waste?”

This just makes Aphelios laugh harder, his mirth impossible not to react to and so soon Sett is giggling with him. Finally, they are able to calm down, and Aphelios runs his fingers lovingly through thick red hair before saying how grateful he is that Sett is so thoughtful.

“Nah. It’s selfish, really,” Sett explains, hooking his fingers in the waist band of Phel’s pants and pulling them down a couple inches, leaning forward to kiss the tidy patch of black hair that peeks out. “I want all of ya. I wanna experience everything with ya. Well, and… I realized that if we’re gonna be together for life, it would be pretty shitty if you never got to feel what gettin’ head is like. Not that I’ll be anywhere near as good as you are. You blow my mind, Phel.”

Again the frankness produces a blush, but addressing that it will be Aphelios’ first time and how exciting that is kindles a full body warmth.

“I love you so much,” Aphelios tells Sett as the beast-man looks up at him from his knees.

“Love ya more, bunny.” 

Sett has an abundance of kisses, and his mouth freely roams everywhere along Phel’s lower abdomen, peaking at his belly button and turning into sexy torture as lips and tongue go lower and lower. Aphelios gasps as Sett’s mouth affixes beside the black hair, atop a pronounced vein; Sett can feel Phel’s blood pounding through it in response to the suck bruise he leaves in such a private place. Finally, Sett mercifully lowers his pants all the way, and Aphelios steps out of them so he can reposition to make things easier on the beast man.

Sett approaches oral sex with trepidation, it’s clear. His ears are bent low and back, and his yellow eyes frequently flick up to Phel’s face to confirm that he’s not somehow already causing him discomfort or pain. But all he sees there are red cheeks warmed with the rush of arousal, parted lips and darkened eyes, and so emboldened, he goes for it. His nervousness fades substantially when he realizes that he might feel like an amateur, but he’s got one of the best examples to follow… he’ll just replicate what Aphelios has done to him on so many occasions that always produced mind-blowing pleasure.

Both of them moan as Sett takes all of Phel’s considerable length into his mouth, manageable because he’s still half-soft, but as Sett runs his rough tongue along the underside of Aphelios’ shaft, that soon changes and Sett gags trying to keep it all in his mouth and throat. Automatically, Aphelios apologizes and tries to pull his hips back, but Sett reaches up to stop him.

Taking him into his hand instead, just for the moment, Sett draws back in order to tell Aphelios not to be sorry at all, asking rhetorically, “d’you know how hot it is that you’re hittin’ the back of my throat?” and before Aphelios can get shy or try to fumble through a response, the beast-man launches his ‘attack’ afresh.

Now Aphelios is fully hard, and the feeling of Sett’s hot wet tongue sweeping back and forth across his swollen head is breath-stealing, and he leans heavily against the door, moaning as that hot tongue finds his slit, and then, when Sett needs to pull away to catch his breath, Sett replaces the tip of his tongue with the tip of his finger, rubbing gently and feeling the slippery precum leaking from Phel’s erection.

Pumping with one of his massive hands, Sett reaches around to massage the sensitive ring of muscle of Phel’s hole with a couple fingers of his other, while guiding Phel’s hips forward as his mouth and tongue and teeth trace the length of the Lunari’s inguinal crease. The skin feels fever hot against his lips, causing him to grin. In his own pants he’s getting wet… the administration of a specific pleasure Aphelios has never experienced before is an insane turn on, to say the least.

Sett moans around Phel’s cock when takes him in his mouth again and can taste his arousal, and like an echo, this precipitates a moan from Aphelios, through his gritted teeth. He entangles one hand in the Vastayan’s red hair, though he seems too uncertain about using his grip to make Sett blow him harder. Sett looks up because he wants to see the ecstasy on his lover’s face again, but Aphelios is covering his eyes with his free hand; his little idiosyncrasy he does when he’s reaching his stimulation limit. 

They often have fun testing where Aphelios’ brink is, and occasionally he’ll instruct Sett to push him past it… but right at that moment Sett’s tongue finds the tip of his cock again, and Aphelios gives a little jolt and starts to tremble, gooseflesh raised on his skin, and the moment after that, Sett feels three taps made with a fingertip on his head; their ‘safe word.’

He pulls away immediately.

“Too much?”

Eyes still covered, and biting his lower lip, Aphelios nods.

“Okay sweetheart,” Sett smiles. He loves this man so much. “Is it alright if I touch ya? Want me to bring you to the bed?”

Another nod.

Sett picks him up gently and walks them both to the bed, thinking that maybe he’ll get one of the guards outside to send a message to the pits and tell them he’ll be an extra hour delayed, because he assumes that Aphelios will need to stop, and perhaps they can have a little nap together instead, but in either case, Sett doesn’t want to leave before Aphelios feels calm again. He’s not disappointed, in fact, far from it. He’s extremely satisfied he could make Aphelios feel so good with something he’s so inexperienced at. But…

“Can you keep going, please…” Aphelios asks him, voice a little garbled because now he’s covering his face with both hands.

“Hm? You wanna keep goin’? Shouldn’t I give ya a bit? I don’t mind—”

“Gods, no,” Aphelios cuts in. “Please keep going right now, it just… it felt too good for a moment.”

Sett grins, immensely pleased with himself. He climbs carefully over top of Aphelios on the bed, kissing his knuckles and trailing down, licking and sucking his nipples that are already sensitive from before, and down further; kissing Aphelios’ belly button again, before reconfiguring so he’s on his knees between Phel’s legs. Again he starts hesitantly, making sure this time that he’s not ignoring more signs that he’s overdoing it, but soon Aphelios is moaning and his back is arching, bending his knees as his toes curl, and so Sett lies stomach-down on the mattress and loops his arms under and around Phel’s bent legs, gripping his thighs and using the leverage to pull Phel into his mouth. He tries valiantly to deep-throat Aphelios but fails, the Lunari is too big for him to handle quite yet but Sett commits that he will learn how to do this, too. It’s a favour he is determined to return.

Any distress Aphelios was experiencing due to the overstimulation seems to have passed, because now he is avidly watching as Sett pleasures him, using his hands to stroke Sett’s hair and ears instead of covering his face. When Aphelios repositions his legs to drape over Sett’s shoulders, it gets the beast-man so hot that he feels a wet spurt of his own precum, but it’s a moment’s distraction, and his thoughts return wholly to enthusiastically making Aphelios cum. It’s not very long at all before he feels Aphelios get even harder, his erection pulsing against Sett’s tongue.

“Sett, I’m going—I’m cumming—” The warning is accompanied by the Lunari attempting to pull his hips away, still trying to be courteous and avoid spilling into Sett’s mouth. But Sett isn’t having it, and he tightens his hold so that Phel has no choice but to embrace release, Sett moaning as Phel cries out breathlessly and his spend floods over Sett’s tongue, the orgasm producing little aftershocks that ripple throughout Aphelios’ body. 

Sett disentangles himself and wipes his mouth, and swallows without a second thought.

He’s still hard himself, but curiously, he has no thoughts for his own physical release. There was something perfectly satiating about bringing Aphelios to climax like that. And so, he flops down on the bed beside his lover and catches his breath.

“That was incredible,” Aphelios tells him once he’s caught his breath too, before kissing Sett. It’s intensely sexy to taste himself on Sett’s lips.

“All those cucumbers were worth it then?” Sett jokes, cuddling his fiancé to him and they laugh together.

“Very. But I cannot believe you managed to keep it a secret for so long. All those letters you wrote about things you wanted to do together, and you never let it slip that you had such devious plans for me.”

Sett chuckles. “The only reason I was able to keep it a secret was ‘cause I was too shy to write down that I’d become a human vegetable grater. Well, a half-human one, anyway.”

Aphelios nuzzles into him, getting comfortable and looking sleepy, but suddenly his head perks up.

“Do you have to go back now? Do you have time for me to… pay you back?”

Sett just kisses Phel’s forehead, slightly damp with sweat, and the fragrance of his perspiring body and his clean, soft hair truly threaten to make Sett disappoint the rest of his professional obligations for the day in spite of how much trouble he’d get into for it. But the feeling of satisfaction is still there, and he shakes his head and smiles.

“You’ll never believe it but that was enough for me, at least for now. Doin’ that for ya was so hot, I just wanna… I dunno, I guess I want to preserve the moment a bit more, think about it ‘n you all afternoon until I come home tonight. Then ask me again if I want a round two ‘n I’ll probably be jumpin’ your bones. But you drive me crazy, Phel.”

They tell each other they love each other again as Sett pulls the silk sheets over Aphelios’ beautiful naked body, tucking him in for a lazy late summer nap after such excitement. This simple domesticity, leaving his lover taken care of on every level to relax in bed as Sett goes to take care of his professional business fills the Vastayan with joy. This is fairly close to, if not exactly what the beast-man would consider his ideal life, and he tells Aphelios as much before leaving him snugly amidst the blankets, though he’s already looking forward to coming home again to his partner that night.

When Sett does finally manage to conclude his meetings and prize fights for the day, he finds dinner ready and waiting for him made by Aphelios and Alune, and the three of them enjoy a low key evening of playing card games together before they retire for the night, and in the privacy behind their bedroom door, Aphelios does all the things that make Sett’s back arch and his toes curl and his breath quicken too.

Waking gently and feeling refreshed from an excellent night’s sleep after being thoroughly worn out by his lover, Sett rubs his eyes clear while listening for the slow rhythm of Aphelios’ breathing in slumber. Aphelios often slept late into the morning after years spent being more or less nocturnal, and Sett has unconsciously developed this little method of checking the Lunari is doing fine while reveling in his closeness; the first few mornings together he’d placed a light kiss on one of Phel’s shoulders or in his hair, and despite Sett’s delicate care, Aphelios had woken up immediately after every time. So now Sett spends a happy moment just listening to the peaceful breathing of the other before he starts his day, but his hyper-sensitive ears pick up irregularities no human ears would have detected.

He sits up and leans over to see if Aphelios is just having an intense dream, but discovers that he’s awake and has turned away, attempting to hide the fact that he is crying.

“Phel!” Though he manages to keep his voice quiet so as not to startle Aphelios, panic unavoidably makes it sharp. 

At first there is no response, Aphelios’ face is half-buried between the pillow and blankets so even hovering, Sett can’t really see his reaction. But after a moment, Aphelios turns over and reaches for Sett, wanting to be held. The Vastayan immediately lowers and encircles him firmly in his arms, where Aphelios sniffles against his chest.

“Shhh, ‘sokay. I got you, sweetheart. I’m here for ya. It’s more nightmares, ain’t it?”

He feels Phel nod and his heart sinks. He holds Aphelios even more protectively and tenderly kisses the crown of his head. 

Aphelios’ nightmares had greatly improved in the past year, in the sense that he rarely ever woke up screaming anymore, though that too had already happened once since their reunion. But they had far from disappeared, and there had already been several mornings Sett had noticed something was off and Aphelios had revealed the reason to be another vicious nightmare he’d suffered. It was these moments that were an unwelcome reminder that no matter how vibrant and full of vitality Aphelios looked, and in spite of all the monumental, incredible progress he’d made emotionally, that for the foreseeable future, he would still be haunted in some measure by the things he had been through, and the things he had done. 

Today, it is the latter that is weighing especially heavily on him.

“I am scared, Sett…” he says against warm skin, his voice thick with congestion.

“Of what, bunny?” More kisses and hair pets.

It takes a little bit for Aphelios to find the right words, and when he does, he surprises Sett totally.

“I am too happy… I am too happy. When is it going to be taken away? I should not be this happy.”

“Whaddya mean? ‘Course you should be happy, we’re gettin’ married soon, you’re healthy, we never been able to spend this much time together, ya got your sister here too…” 

Sett trails off because he realizes what Aphelios really means. It was something they’d addressed in their letters to each other; this dread that Aphelios was being given the chance to love and be with Sett and his sister only so his punishment for his supposed sins could be that much more complete when these people were taken away from him again. There was a part of Aphelios that was so accustomed to despair and suffering that even though things had the appearance of the worst having passed, part of him still could not help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for things to return to the struggle they always had been. Because he was so used to it, and because a part of him believed it was what he deserved.

“Phel,” he resumes, understanding. “Just ‘cause things were always shit, doesn’t mean they’re gonna always be shit. You earned your happiness. You saved your people. Alune is back now forever, ‘n you can bet your cute little ass that I ain’t ever goin’ anywhere either. We worked for this ‘n now we get to enjoy it. Life can be unfair ‘n full o’ chaos ‘n crap but it’s also shaped by us. Like I wouldn’t be The Boss if I’d waited around for life to hand it to me. I made my life for myself just like you have.

“’N we’ve also both survived crazy shit, we’re made of hardier stuff than you’re givin’ us credit for. I think we both got long ‘n happy lives ahead of us, mooncake. ‘N they won’t even be perfect either, but they ain’t just some kinda elaborate set up just so we can fall that much further. It don’t work like that.”

Sett pauses, feeling how Aphelios is listening and absorbing his comforting words, his breathing beginning to settle.

“’N you know… even if it did… you’re the chosen of the gods. But not in the way ya seem to think you are. You’re not their chosen toy, some kinda doll to break ‘n smash. You’re their chosen heroes, you ‘n Alune, ‘n you guys fuckin’ showed the gods they chose right. They don’t give their secret weapon blessin’s to shmucks that aren’t worthy.”

Sett’s words are a promise of sorts, and he seals it with a loving kiss on Phel’s forehead, and Aphelios has calmed enough to look back up at him.

“You’re here, with me, right now, ‘cause that’s the way it’s meant t’be. We earned it.”

Aphelios digests these words, thinking hard, before he wipes his eyes and smiles a little, unfurling from where he was huddled into the shelter of the Vastayan’s body, reaching his arms to hold him tightly back, and they press flush against each other, skin to skin.

“Look at you,” Aphelios murmurs adoringly through sniffles. “Settrigh, ‘The Boss,’ cheeky iconoclast and kraken god eater, telling me to have faith.”

“Heh. Well, this is about one of the only things I really believe in. ‘N I’m happy to convert you.”

As if to prove that this happiness and stability are the new norm, Sett just keeps Aphelios in his arms, wiping his wet cheeks and chatting about silly, inconsequential things, in no rush to get out of bed or disrupt this simple domestic scene. They indulge themselves so long that Sett is late for work, but he’s in too good of a mood for Rhoanna’s dressing down to bother him much at all. The faith in the peace that Sett had helped him feel stays with Aphelios as he spends a lazy day in the backyard reading with Alune.

The days fly by, filled as they are with frantic preparation for the festivities and coming ceremony. They hear from Kolli, who should be able to arrive just in time for the reception feast, and she tells them it’s her distinct pleasure to be a guest at their wedding, and she’s happy to report that she is bringing her own betrothed, a fellow temple acolyte named Mazik, who she’d ended up meeting at the banquet Sett had arranged. Sett also has to cut back at the pit simply because so much of the wedding prep requires his oversight; no matter how much work Aphelios, Alune and Momma all put in, there are details that only he can take care of, especially with regards to the reception dinner, growing massive and (in Aphelios’ opinion) a little out of control. Aphelios and Sett share many more moments of contentment and passion, but they also get on each other’s nerves and argue. 

A lover’s spat that they have over Sett inviting fourty-seven more people from the local merchant’s guild without asking first gets commentary from both Momma and Alune: the Lunari and his beast-man are already acting the part of an old married couple. But they never stay mad at each other for long, especially when they spend nights together with Sett cuddled into Phel’s chest while slender fingers pet his red ears, and they discuss how they can spend the two months of their honeymoon trip across Runeterra. Aphelios is thrilled about the places he can see and revisit now, with the purpose of enjoying himself, without the pressure of finding Diana. And Sett gets excited too, imagining how his intelligent husband will tell him all the myriad knowledge and local wisdom he’s gathered from years of travel, how Sett will see the world anew through Phel’s eyes.

Too soon, it’s the day before the reception feast, which means it is also the day for each man’s respective bachelor party. The two celebrations planned for them couldn’t be more different, Aphelios’ having been concocted by Rhoanna and Alune while they were on vacation together, and Sett’s planned for him by the crew members of the pit, the crowd he’d had plenty of fun with when he was a younger and very single man. 

Though he has pleaded with his sister that he doesn’t enjoy surprises, on her instructions, Aphelios wakes up too early, much earlier than he’d like to, with no idea where he’s headed to. He kisses a drowsy Vastayan goodbye, their schedules are mismatched enough that Sett will have left to attend his own party by the time Aphelios returns, and Sett’s own return isn’t expected until at least the small hours of the next morning, if not after dawn. Rhoanna will have the longest day of all, for she intends to go straight from whatever she’s doing with the twins to whatever debauched merriment is in store for Sett.

An hour into a two-hour carriage ride, the women finally reveal where they are headed; a little north of Ionia City lay some wealthier suburbs, and they are home to a thriving arts and culture scene. Rhoanna had caught word that a mysterious but renowned artistic genius was giving an extremely limited run of a new opera at a theater house; four days only and almost completely sold out despite the exorbitant prices. Rhoanna had used Sett’s connections to secure some of the last tickets, but he, Rhoanna and Alune had all agreed that the work of this Khada Jhin seemed like something that would be right up Aphelios’ alley; the last show had been four years ago, but anyone who had seen it had raved that it was life-changing, unmissable if you could afford it.

Aphelios is a little hesitant, he is immediately interested, but it’s so hard to form any expectations because he has never been to a show of this type or scale before. The closest for comparison would be the religious, ritual-like performances specially trained Lunari would do on days of significance such as feasts, but from the rumours that Rhoanna has heard about Jhin’s creative work, the two sound nothing alike. By the time they are settled in their theatre seats after having to wait in line to be confirmed on the attendee list, Aphelios is thoroughly excited, ready for this new experience.

Anything he had thought this concert-opera would be like is soon surpassed by what it is; he is absolutely emotionally and physically exhausted by the four-hour performance, but never once does he have thoughts to get up and take a break as nearly every other patron does. He is utterly immersed. It defies accurate description with mere language, the music is sung expertly, and although no intelligible words in any tongue Aphelios knows can be deciphered, the songs could hardly be said to have no lyrics. Aphelios feels like he is hearing and watching a wordless, inarticulate script that is at the same time the most eloquent thing he has ever beheld. The plot is incoherent yet masterful, it defies summary and dissection, it must be experienced wholly and on the basis of its own logic and rules, exactly like how a dream makes perfect sense while one is dreaming it, only for the magic to dissipate upon waking.

Undeniably though, it is an opera about beauty and death, these themes express themselves emphatically and with insidious insistence that Aphelios will find himself pondering on for weeks to come.

It does appear, however, that his revelatory experience was not shared by everyone. When the show finally concludes with a curtain call, Rhoanna complains that she fell asleep during hour two and it was better that way until some gunshots in the fourth act startled her awake. Alune had managed to stay awake the entire time, but ultimately agreed with her new friend that what little plot seemed to exist was convoluted, tedious, and honestly, a bit disturbed. 

“I wish I could meet the director,” Aphelios tells them as they eat a very late lunch, Rhoanna trying desperately to rouse herself with some strong Shuriman-style black coffee that Alune makes a face at when she asks to sample it. “I cannot explain this feeling. But the scenes of death… I have never felt so…” he gropes for a word and fails, and thinks to give up on trying to explain to the two women who clearly didn’t get as much out of it as he did. But gently, Alune insists, wanting to hear about how he enjoyed it, happy for him.

“I have never felt… it was like a validation. The depictions of death and of killing… I admit they were deeply uncomfortable. Sometimes distressing. But I believe that was some of the point. That the significance of death can sometimes be so much greater than the individual’s life, than the killer’s life. It reminds me of… it reminds me of the times that you would tell me I made death more than death, that it would be holy.”

He squirms and goes silent, too embarrassed and getting too stressed out to talk about something so intimate when he can barely find the words for it, and no matter how much he likes Rhoanna, he is ashamed to allude to his history as an assassin in front of her… for there is no way she could understand, even her rough and illegal work in the pits withstanding. 

“He was in the show,” Rhoanna tells him matter of factly, returning to Aphelios’ original statement and generously glossing over the deeply personal confessions he’d just made, sensing that he wanted the subject dropped. “The dude with the weird mask, who did that crazy stuff with the blood and the paintbrush. Apparently that’s Khada Jhin, and he always takes some minor role in his performances and wears that mask, but he’s never available for interviews or schmoozing afterwards. He just disappears.”

“The character who was an analogy for the impassivity of the gods,” Aphelios says, remembering the masked man well, while neither Rhoanna nor Alune know how to respond, because that part had definitely gone over their heads. Soon the subject has changed naturally, and they are chatting about something else as they get ready for the trip back home.

But Aphelios can’t help but mostly tune them out; he had been fascinated and repulsed by the masked man. His character had appeared at critical moments in each Act but never to intervene to prevent death despite his obvious ability to do so, his only interest apparently to revel in the kind of statement that could only be made on a canvas primed by blood. It had been clear, to Aphelios at least, that the character was meant to represent the power the gods had, but how they often did nothing to prevent what mortals would consider great tragedies, enough that one had to wonder if they did not prefer the vibrancy of the chaos and the sheer lifeforce expended instead. It was a feeling that resonated deeply with Aphelios… but not as deeply as the terrifying, alluring understanding that death, and the paradoxical creation of death, could be unutterably beautiful. Could make a man feel like an artist. 

Aphelios has never seen or heard any indication from any other human that led him to believe they understood what that horrific, sublime feeling was like, even his sister had had to fit it into the architecture of their faith and duty. He feels a peculiar sense of being understood, of loneliness being eased, but in a way that simultaneously disgusts and soothes him. The part of himself that he is in control of wants no such validation or recognition of the appalling things he’s had to do, the lives he has had to end and feels like he could spend the rest of his life atoning for and it wouldn’t even come close to being enough. But the part of his heart that feels and reacts beyond his discipline and denial considers this Khada Jhin to be a kindred spirit (in a monstrous way) and Aphelios wonders if this elusive opera-writer just happens to be the creative genius people say he is, or if these rhapsodies on death and killing come from the author’s personal experience.

Sett stumbles as he underestimates the distance between him and the bar he’s trying to lean on, and realizes… he is absolutely wasted.

It takes a lot to get the giant beast-man sloshed, but considering that his comrades have been diligently ensuring his hand was never empty of a drink (sometimes both hands) since his bachelor party had started at 4:00 P.M. and it is now nearing 8:00… it only makes sense. Over the last four hours he’s probably imbibed enough to put a regular adult male on a medic’s stretcher.

He’s not having a bad time per se, he’s bar-hopped with many of these colleagues and buddies before. They’ve had his back during many a drunken brawl, and he’s shared… intimate moments with some of them when they’d all find or hire hook-ups after a night of boozing once the pits were closed. But it’s been different for the past two years, since he’d slept with Aphelios that first time and apparently his little Vastayan pea brain had decided they were mated for life without Sett being entirely aware of it, and, at the time, with absolutely no guarantee he’d ever even see Aphelios again. Most of his cronies had dropped the matter of fucking around after the first time Sett had said he wasn’t interested anymore, that he was committed. But some of them had thought that made The Boss a lot less fun, and would occasionally still rib Sett and ask him what he thought of that ‘exceptionally hot’ lady, or this ‘super-ripped and handsome’ man, trying to tempt him. He is getting ribbed tonight as well, to his irritation.

“You’re here, all alone at the bar, when we hired those dancers for ya?” one of his captains is slurring beside Sett, and even drunk like this, Sett’s sensitive nose can pick up his sour breath. “The main girl is real good at what she does, and we all chipped in to buy the ‘deluxe package’ for ya. Just wait till you see what she can do with her tongue—”

“I ain’t interested,” Sett tells him firmly, but not meanly. He understands even through his booze-addled haze that his crew was just trying to show him they cared, in the way they themselves would want to be spoiled and treated. “Listen, is Rho back yet? What about Phel?”

“Haven’t seen the Lieutenant around yet, Boss. She’ll probably be here soon. And Mister Aphelios ain’t comin’ at all. He can’t come to your bachelor party, remember? Don’t you know that’s awful luck? Anyways, I know what would take your mind right off of all that…” 

Sett looks around the raucous, dark nightclub that’s been rented out for the exclusive use of The Boss and his crew. He confirms for himself as he squints with his vision that’s going a bit double that Rhoanna is nowhere to be seen, and with bland disinterest he takes in the raised platform at the other end of the club upon which some topless women and men are dancing before he realizes his captain is offering him yet another drink. He thanks him and downs it without thinking, which he only realizes was probably not such a great idea the moment after he swallows the last of it and it’s too late. 

Eventually his captain gets tired of trying to pull him from the bar and into the centre of the party, abandoning his efforts so he can go flirt with one of the hired dancers with blonde hair. Sett wastes another twenty minutes moping around, still not really sure why Aphelios couldn’t just be here so they could be dancing to this music together. Sett doesn’t give a shit about superstitions, and he would much rather be allowed to drunkenly enjoy himself with his fiancé and not be forced to skulk around and dim the enjoyment of others like he feels he’s doing right now. He’s still not used to having Aphelios around so much, he hasn’t gotten his fill of his presence, so he’s cranky that such a silly reason is keeping them apart, when he would have been much happier to be able to go watch the opera thingee with Phel and the girls (although even he had to be honest that sitting and watching a show apparently with no words that lasted four hours sounded like an absolute fucking nightmare) and they all come to the club after for some revelry. He also misses his best friend; at least if Rhoanna was here she’d be able to say the perfect sassy thing to snap the Vastayan out of his self-indulgent gloom.

“Your eyes are stunning,” a female voice comes from beside him, pulling Sett from his inebriated distraction. He looks down and sees it’s one of the contracted entertainers, highly skilled and trained people who attended parties exactly like this one, and could be additionally hired for sex, provided they liked the guest well enough and the guest could pay.

Sett grunts, not meaning to be as rude as he comes across. She is very beautiful, it’s not that he’s insensible to it, and the warmth of her hand on his forearm is pleasant. He’s just simply, completely disinterested, like a switch that is being flipped on, but for a circuit that can’t complete. Sett only feels the electricity of raw sexual desire when he is around Aphelios, or thinking of him. He’d actually asked his mother if that was part of this Vastaya commitment thing, but she’d explained that partnered Vastaya actually often maintained sexually open relationships, though it was true that the tribe she came from, as she had alluded to the first time the topic was brought up, were known for their life-long, monogamous tendencies.

He sways unsteadily, realizing he missed the second thing she said to him, but her body language and the coy smile on her face make it clear that it was more flirting. After a moment’s thought he digs in his pocket and hands her a generous cash tip.

“Listen, don’t take it personal, but I ain’t interested. Sorry for wastin’ your time, I know you were probably told to come make my night special. You’re real gorgeous and one hell of a dancer, but I’m taken. You come to me though, if any of these goons don’t pay you guys ‘n gals right or if they cause ya trouble, ‘kay?”

She nods, and thanks Sett for the gift, and congratulates him sincerely on his upcoming wedding. She’s aware of his reputation and likes him; people who earned money through sex work often jumped at the chance to work for The Boss, anything coordinated through his underground empire, and any dealings with the beast-man himself, were always fair, respectful and safe. Sett had made it known that he had a zero-tolerance policy for rip-offs or manhandling and his syndicate presented the most reliable, protected way for sex workers to collect a robust paycheck.

“Unacceptable!” someone says from behind him, and Sett experiences a momentary flash of fury, thinking they’re talking about his declining of the entertainer. But he calms a little when he sees that what’s ‘unacceptable’ is that he doesn’t have a drink right now, and the man who’d said it, one of his contract managers, rectifies it by handing Sett a large tumbler that has a double serving of whiskey in it. Deciding that’s got to be his last for a little bit because he’s starting to feel pretty rotten physically in addition to his mopey mood, he thanks his employee and buys him a round in return before tottering away from the bar in search once more of whether Rhoanna has arrived yet. He is starting to feel like he might need her level-headed energy in order to keep from doing something stupid. Whenever he feels like this, tavern brawls are usually sure to follow, and he’s sincerely trying not to crash the whole party even if it’s not really what he wanted.

It’s quickly apparent that he is, in fact, too drunk to properly control his temper, and when a group of six or so of his fighters see him and surround him and push him towards a private back room where they promise to send in the best dancer so she can do much more than just dance for Sett, he does lose it a little and snarls at them savagely (for what feels like the two hundredth time that night) that he’s not interested.

But his fighters are generally people of substantial egos, and they aren’t as deferential with Sett as his other employees are, so they continue pressuring and taunting him, poking fun at why he seems so sulky when he’s at a party with unlimited liquor and the best entertainers in their field. Desperate to not cause trouble, especially because he knows that he’s capable of better now, Sett forces the last of his brain cells that aren’t soaked in alcohol to come up with an out, and luckily, he gets a bright idea.

“Yeah, you know what, sorry. I just overdid it fellas,” he says, clutching his stomach as if he might be sick, which isn’t far from the truth. “Just gimme a sec, I gotta go find somewhere to puke my guts out ‘n then I’ll be right there with ya.”

They laugh and tell him to drink some water, but they leave him be without much of a second thought as Sett finds his way to a backdoor and stumbles outside, continuing out to the main street where he hires a taxi rickshaw and gives the driver directions to his house.

The book Aphelios is reading in bed is interesting but his attention span still strays from it frequently; a mix of being exhausted from the long day but fighting sleep since it’s not even 9:00 P.M., and still thinking about the astonishing performance that’s tugging on his mind, simultaneously begging and refusing to be deciphered.

Half an hour more, he commits to himself. He’ll read for half an hour more and then let himself sleep. He can hear Alune in the bathing room and it’s clear she’s getting ready for bed too; they’d all been drained by traveling and concentrating and the twins had expressed their sympathy for Rhoanna who’d had to make her way for hours of more partying, but she’d laughed it off and said she’d caught up on sleep during the opera. He is re-reading a complex sentence for the third time after failing to absorb it when all of a sudden, he hears a distinct sound and it guarantees he is wide awake.

Someone is trying to break in.

Where are the guards? Aphelios thinks, mind racing as he gets out of bed silently, dousing the bedroom light after locating one of his knives that he’s never too far from, having been raised as an assassin, no matter what peace he might now live in. He thinks of Alune in the bath and Sett at his party who-knew-where, and realizes he might be the only one who can stop the intruder, if whoever is trying to jostle the front door open has already managed to dispose of the perimeter security.

He turns out lights as he walks with noiseless movements, and without a sound opens the door to the bathroom, stopping his sister from yelling at him with a commanding index finger held to his lips, shushing her, she’s short enough that only her head is visible over the rim of the tub anyway.

Lock the door behind me, someone is breaking in, he signs. Make no sound. Do not let anyone in unless you are sure it is me. 

Her eyes fall to the dagger in his hand, and she nods, her face drawn and scared. In the same moment that he closes the bathroom door and hears his sister lock it from the inside, he also hears that whoever was trying to get inside the house has succeeded.

They are an inexperienced infiltrator, Aphelios thinks to himself as he approaches and readies for confrontation. They are producing quite a lot of noise, their movements are easy to track and the Lunari can tell that they have made their way to the kitchen, and are searching through cabinets. Perhaps it’s an idiot burglar who somehow snuck past the guards, who heard Sett would be out for the night but doesn’t realize that the house is not empty. 

That, or it is someone of much greater talent, but whose movements are uncontrolled due to a potential injury that may have been inflicted in the case that the security personnel were removed with violence, and they cannot help their noise as they search for something to treat their wound.

A little part of him registers a fault-line of pure terror, cracking, splitting open within him. He’ll probably have to eliminate whoever this is, no matter their motivations for entering the house. In any case, he must be ready to kill, without the buffer of the noctum.

He raises his blade and assumes the martial stance that will allow him to strike the quickest, and then he sprints like a shadow streaking through the night to turn the corner and enter the kitchen and find—

Sett.

“It’s you!” Aphelios exclaims, startling the giant man who whirls around, cheeks ballooned full with food, and caught with his hand quite literally in the cookie jar.

“The fuck?” Sett demands back through a mouthful of biscuits, and his eyes take in the glittering knife in Aphelios hand, at the ready. “The fuck!”

Aphelios only now realizes he’s still holding it and apologizes profusely while immediately sheathing it and leaving it on the counter.

“Sorry, Sett. I did not mean to scare you. I thought someone had broken in, since I was not expecting you for about… another eight hours?” Then, remembering how frightened Alune must be, Aphelios calls down the hallway that it was a false alarm, it was just Sett who’d come home early and all is well.

Sett pouts, and Aphelios approaches, noticing that Sett has cookie crumbs all around his mouth and some have even fallen in the fur mantle of his coat. He stifles a smile, seeing that Sett is… in a state.

“I’m real drunk, Phel,” the beast-man confesses earnestly, not realizing it’s painfully obvious already, making Aphelios clench his jaw so that he doesn’t laugh in the face of his poor, sulky, wasted fiancé.

“I see that,” Phel says gently, brushing the crumbs out of the fur and wiping Sett’s face with a napkin. All the while, Sett is watching him with glassy eyes and very unsteady balance, munching on and finally swallowing the obscene mouthful of cookie. “Are you feeling okay? Have you had some water?”

“No,” Setts pouts more, and Aphelios eyes start to water with the effort to suppress his laughing fit—Sett looks so plaintive, almost pitiful, huge and swaying and gorging on sweets, he is acting like a giant toddler would if toddlers could handle a quart of straight bourbon and not die. “I missed ya, mooncake.”

“I missed you too,” Aphelios replies as he helps Sett out of his coat.

“No… babe…” Sett says with grave seriousness, like his partner just isn’t getting it. “I really, really, really missed ya.”

Sett’s face is scrunching like he’s about to start crying, and again Aphelios manages valiantly to keep a neutral expression, giggling when Sett is this teary and intense would be unforgivable.

“I hear you,” he tells him, tone appropriate for a matter of such critical importance. “I missed you terribly as well. But if we can get you into bed, I promise I will stay by your side the entire night. Did you leave your party because you missed me?”

The Vastayan crime lord nods, sniffling pathetically and following Aphelios around the kitchen like a puppy as the younger man fills the biggest glass he can find with cold water, and pulls a bottle of medicinal tablets for headaches out of the first aid cabinet.

“Okay,” Aphelios takes two of the capsules out and puts them in Sett’s huge palm. “Take those pills, and drink at least half of that water. I am going outside to ask the guards to send a messenger, Rhoanna will want to know you are home safe and there is no need to worry. I will be back before you’re done, I promise. And no more cookies for now, alright?”

Sett absorbs all of these instructions and again nods sincerely, doing whatever Aphelios asks him to. It’s only a moment that Aphelios steps out and coordinates a messenger, but when he’s back, the water glass has obediently been emptied, but so has the cookie jar.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” Aphelios admonishes him gently, taking the jar from the guilty looking beast-man and replacing it on the counter. 

“I already hurled like three times on the way here, I’m good,” Sett explains, eager to assure his sweetheart that there is nothing to worry about.

“You poor thing,” Phel coos, and Sett immediately resumes pouting and nods in serious agreement again. “I think emergency treatment is needed… you must get tucked in bed and have your ears stroked as soon as possible.”

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” Setts slurs his idiotic joke while permitting Aphelios to lead him by the hand to the bedroom, another glass of water and the headache medication coming with them, taking a brief detour to ensure that Alune is settled again after all the excitement. Somehow, Aphelios never breaks and maintains his kindly, sympathetic expression the entire time. He pets Sett’s head and strokes his ear fur as the Vastayan complains about how bad the room is spinning, and how bad he missed Aphelios, even as he keeps smacking his mouth because his tongue has a funny taste and it makes a funny sound, until he conks out, sound asleep in the Lunari’s arms and snoring. With no idea of the splitting headache he is in for when he wakes up.

Sett is not a happy camper the next morning, and he looks queasy and pale as the final preparations for the feast are undertaken. It’s been booked in a private botanical garden on the shores of the Lake of Lighted Lilies, rented out for this event exclusively, with accommodations made for the fireworks show over the water that Sett had insisted on. Massive willow trees flank the garden, and they have painstakingly been strung with fairy lights and coloured lanterns, though this lighting ultimately pales in comparison to the delicate glory of the soft bioluminescence of the water lilies, some as big as a man, that float like beautiful ghosts on the placid surface of the lake. 

Other late summer flowers are also in full bloom, and so the evening air smells of jasmine, night phlox and coral honeysuckle. But it is also one of the rare times that the beauty of nature has competition; the two grooms, once they are both dressed and primped, are stunning. Aphelios had decided to wear traditional Ionian montsuki after confirming this was the local custom for such events, and his hair has been carefully combed and oiled into a half-bun. Sett had settled on a suit of Piltovan tailoring, in white, red, and gold, and it’s not long before the warmth in his tan skin and his characteristic boisterousness make their appearance as his hangover wears off. 

“Don’t force yourself to speak if ya don’t feel like it,” Sett had told Aphelios as the younger man had gotten increasingly anxious about having to receive guests at such a massive event. Obviously, with people he knew, he had no problem using his voice (usually), but the idea of having to make conversation with hundreds of strangers was already causing the familiar panic that would leave his throat tight and his voice unreliable in the moments when he needed it.

However, being silent stresses Aphelios out just as much, only in a different way. He feels like he is being unforgivably rude as guest after guest is ushered past one after the other, in a queue, to be received by the betrothed couple in semi-privacy within a flowering gazebo. However, it’s not long before some of the stress subsides, and Aphelios enjoys watching Sett in his element; a professional who remembers exactly who everyone is, and acknowledges their connection to him without blowing the cover he still believes his mother is buying, that these are all his contacts from his construction business and various projects. Aphelios loves seeing people treat his fiancé with (mostly genuine) respect, and is pleasantly surprised when these people, some of them Ionia’s most hardened criminals, treat him with deference and admiration too, although some of it does seem to be toned with fear. 

Unknowingly, Aphelios’ silence only reinforces the rumours that he is someone of exceptional magical power and ability, perhaps even enough that his mere speaking can cast spells and birth chaos. The Lunari doesn’t know how to feel about such a reaction, which he eventually finds out about even though Sett tries to protect him from it a little… he has always been exceptionally quiet, but not for a lack of things to say or express. 

When he’d lost the ability to speak through the noctum and through the trauma he’d repressed, he’d hated it. It had felt to him unequivocally like a weakness, to not be able to speak up for himself or say kind words or even tell his name if he didn’t have a notebook handy or someone who signed. But now, his voicelessness is being construed as what these people consider to be the ultimate indication that he is powerful. Not a single person at the massive feast thinks of Aphelios as meek or helpless, he feels like space is made for him even as he does not fill it with noise… so different from the feeling of being spoken over or ignored unless he was willing to scream and shout on his own behalf.

He doesn’t enjoy the idea of scaring people, but the fact that he is afforded the dignity to behave as he feels most comfortable without the implicit or explicit desire that he give more is not unpleasant.

Sett approaches Aphelios’ muteness in a much different way… in between conversations with their guests, he catches Phel’s attention to sign with him, delighted to flaunt what feels like their secret language; likely Sett has forgotten that Alune is fluent too and that one should never assume about the abilities of others. Mostly it’s just silly jokes or smitten compliments designed to make Aphelios smile at him, but, feeling cheeky after the one-hundred-and-seventy-eighth party attendee they shake hands with, the beast-man takes it too far.

“Hey, Phel,” he says to ensure that the other is paying full attention to him before signing: I’m gonna fuck you senseless when we get home tonight .

Immediately, Aphelios goes bright red before whirling around to locate his sister, praying to the Moon that she was distracted and didn’t see. Thankfully, he locates her quite a distance off, totally absorbed in a conversation with Rhoanna. He wipes the shock off his face and ensures his expression is carefully blank, quickly forming a plan to retaliate against Sett for his brazen, public dirty talk, designed specifically to make Aphelios get bashful and shy. Once he’s recovered he continues to greet the guests with solemn bows, pretending to give Sett no reaction.

“Okay, sorry mooncake,” Sett mutters during the next lull in welcomes. “I was just kiddin’ around with ya. You mad at me?”

Aphelios just looks at him and gives a small, non-commital shrug, letting his fiancé squirm and fret a little more. After about two minutes, the perfect moment for the fruition of his little plan arrives; a group of several entertainers recognizes a gaggle of pit fighters, and in the distraction of the raucous reunion as they flamboyantly greet each other and embrace, and after making sure his sister is still not paying attention, Aphelios strikes.

He taps lightly on the Vastayan’s shoulder, and once he’s turned to him, the Lunari avenges himself. 

When we get home tonight I will make you cum so hard it will fry the last of your brain cells.

It’s Sett’s turn to imitate a tomato and he splutters through a nearly incoherent greeting of the managers of one of his clubs who has just arrived, stumbling over his words, generally making a bit of a fool out himself. Finally, when the man just laughs it off, pays his respects to Aphelios and leaves to find his seat, Sett mumbles with wilted ears to his fiancé.

“Take it easy on me, hon. Clearly there are too few of my brain cells as it is.”

Okay, Phel signs back, pretending to be amenable when he is in fact merciless. Fair enough. In that case, I will only make you cum medium-hard.

Defeated, Sett flubs through a few more stilted greetings until Aphelios takes pity on him and holds his hand, which does instantly calm the Vastayan. But what Aphelios doesn’t know is why Sett got so riled; first of all, he’d had to find a covert way to shift his stiffening dick so that it was hanging more comfortably, because there was nothing like Aphelios being sassy and sexy and with body language that bossy to instantly revv Sett into arousal, but Sett’s also flustered because he’s realized that if they have sex tonight it will be their last time before getting married… the next time they make love after that, they will be each others’ husbands, and Sett is simply too excited when he thinks about it.

At long last, they meet with the last two attendees who are a pleasant surprise, obscured as they were to the grooms waiting within the gazebo.

“Kolli!” Aphelios cries out happily, receiving the woman readily as she bounds up joyfully to embrace him. The dark coils of her hair are elegantly configured into swirling twists, held in place with gold baubles that glint even in the twilight, and her brown skin is radiant against the tangerine taffeta of her jumpsuit. It’s an unusual, exceptionally fashionable outfit that looks like it cost a fortune. Overall, it’s clear that Kolli wears her new prosperity very well.

“You’re lookin’ great, kiddo,” Sett says to her, without meaning to come across as infantilizing her.

“Very beautiful,” Aphelios adds. Although her massive crush on Aphelios had long since subsided, hearing that in his gorgeous, accented voice makes Kolli’s heart thrum. “How different from when I saw you last, when I had regrettably ruined your outfit.”

The allusion to the prodigious blood stain he’d left on Kolli’s tunic the last time they’d seen each other is a bit weird, but since it’s coming from Aphelios and with good humour, it helps break the ice for the other three—telling them it’s okay to talk about the reason they’d ever had to meet in the first place.

“Small price to pay, when now I can brag to everyone that I helped find a demi-god and I saved a hero’s life!” Kolli grins and Aphelios groans, complaining about her being on the ‘hero’ train too.

“Thanks for comin’ all the way to be here with us, you two,” Sett smiles warmly as he receives his hug from the kraken acolyte as well. Once the old friends have said their hellos, Sett reaches to shake hands with the handsome man behind her; though his suit is well-fitting it’s more subdued, perhaps to let Kolli shine, but in his purple dreadlocks are little gold loops and fasteners that match his partner’s. “Kolli told us about ya in her R.S.V.P., it's a pleasure to meet ya. I’m Sett.”

“I am Aphelios,” the Lunari reaches for the man’s offered hand and shakes it with both of his. “Thank you so much for coming such a long way to share this with us.”

“Mazik,” he introduces himself. “But just call me Maz. I’ve heard all about you two as well, it’s great to meet you. In fact, it’s thanks to you that I ever met Kolli in the first place, so I definitely owe you one!”

Kolli gives her spirited laugh. “What he really means is that he spent half the feast you two provided flirting relentlessly with me. But it’s true, that day changed my life in many ways… but don’t let it go too much to your heads. After all, neither of you would be anywhere without me!”

“But we do hope that you’ll return the favour and come be our guests when we get hitched,” Maz adds generously. “A Buhru wedding is a three-day affair and will have the most delicious food you have ever tasted, the best music you’ve ever heard. But from what I’ve heard from Kolli, I feel you two will have a wedding that gives Buhruans a run for their money.”

They continue chatting like old comrades, it’s clear that the four of them are very complementary to each other in spirit, and there is much laughter shared and comfortable contentment that settles in as they leave the gazebo to begin mingling at the party before the feast is served. But before the quartet joins the crowd proper, Aphelios senses Kolli wants to speak with him and they hang back, Maz and Sett leave them to it and begin their own conversation further ahead.

“It is so good to see you so healthy,” she tells him, her hazel eyes sparkling. “I still think about that day often, and how close you came to being lost. I am sorry for talking of such dark things on a happy day, but that’s…” she breaks off a little, getting emotional and Aphelios feels it too. They reach for each others’ hands at the same time, creating two little bridges between them.

“It just fills me with much joy to be here, celebrating with you. We did not get to say goodbye, so it is quite wonderful to see you here now, shining like you are the moon. And to hear your voice has recovered. I hope it is okay that I take you aside like this to tell you how happy I am for you, how I pray every day to Mother Serpent in thanks for our paths crossing, and for where those paths have taken us. We are so blessed!”

“We are,” Aphelios agrees, and surprises himself by finding that he mostly means it. “Thank you for your kind words, Kolli, and for being so happy for us. You are the reason I am alive to be here for this day, and so the joy of the occasion is thanks to you and your bravery.”

It’s a moment where it feels like closure has been achieved, a peace and sense of wholeness and fulfillment is present. Their acquaintance had basically consisted of two days, but in those two days, Kolli had changed the fatal trajectory of the orbit Aphelios had been trapped in. And now, they can enjoy the fruits of their labour, thank each other, and meet as carefree friends.

They rejoin their partners, Sett looping an arm around Phel’s waist and leaning in to kiss his cheek. It’s both hilarious and shameful for him to remember how jealous he had once been of Kolli, when now the Vastayan just feels immense gratitude towards her, and the thrill of getting to know a fellow gregarious, passionate kindred spirit.

“I have not told you yet,” Aphelios says quietly so only Sett hears amidst the pleasant noise of the celebration that’s underway around them, and Sett leans once again when he sees that the Lunari wishes to reciprocate the kiss. “You are incredibly handsome tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Sett teases, enamoured. He loves hearing Aphelios praise him.

“Always,” Aphelios indulges him, smiling. “The most handsome man, always. And especially tonight.”

“Shucks, Phel.” Sett jostles him affectionately. “You make me wanna propose now so I can marry ya twice.”

It turns out that the hour and a half spent greeting the attendees is the most demanding part of the reception feast; Aphelios begins enjoying himself, especially when he can chat with Maz and Kolli, forging a friendship that feels real and normal. He is equally pleased to realize how much his sister is enjoying herself with Rhoanna. Every time he looks over to the pair they are laughing, sometimes to the point of having tears in their eyes, and it’s clear that Alune has made her first real friend as well… it lightens a burden Phel didn’t know his heart was still carrying to see her open up. Not only in being herself with Rho, but also becoming slowly more receptive to a life that can be enjoyed for oneself, in harmony with duty and devotion and not suffocated by it. 

And of course, being with Sett who keeps gazing at him like he’s the most precious, bewitching treasure he’s ever seen… Sett’s boyish glee when after the food is eaten and digestifs are served, the custom fireworks he ordered are detonated over the lake, including a finale monster explosion that had formed into purple and red concentric hearts, glittering across the entire sky… ultimately, the event feels so intimate and meaningful, and Aphelios comes to realize that these hundreds of people have accepted Sett and wish to genuinely celebrate with him, and that, even if it’s just by extension, it’s undeniable that they’ve accepted Aphelios and Alune too. 

But none of that compares to the best part of the whole night, experienced as they sit on the banks of the lake alone (at Rhoanna and Alune’s insistence, who’d seen to everything being put away and cleaned and the mountain of wedding gifts being catalogued and brought to one of Sett’s mansions). Aphelios tells Sett that he’s really beginning to feel as if Ionia is his home too, and the look on the beast-man’s face before he pulls Aphelios into his lap and begins to sniffle and cry from an overload of joy is Aphelios’ favourite memory of the day.

Finally, the big day arrives, and whether it’s just an auspicious coincidence or it’s a celestial sign of approval, it’s an absolutely glorious one. The daytime warmth is the kind that is pleasant instead of oppressive, and as the velvet darkness of evening comes, the crispness of Fall can be felt in the air. The harvest moon rises against a cloudless sky, massive and luminous.

Sett and Aphelios have barely seen each other in the furor of preparations, getting Sett’s backyard ready for the small party of eight still requires a lot of oversight and organizing, and Aphelios is remanded into a closed-off bedroom by his sister three hours before the scheduled ceremony time under the zenith moon. She has assistance from Rhoanna in keeping the two men separated once Aphelios begins the arduous process of dressing in the traditional Lunari wedding clothes his people had gifted him and Alune, for it was yet again considered bad luck to have the grooms to see each other in their wedding clothes before the actual ritual.

Alune has to help him with some of it, there are many layers that fold together or overlap like the tightly stratified petals of a rose. Over his underwear goes a pure white tunic, which is tucked into silk leggings, over which go snowy pants that are tooled and embroidered similarly to Aphelios’ regular ones, but much more elaborately. The dove grey shirt that goes over the tunic is also of silk, with sleeves that split at his forearm and touch the floor, painstakingly decorated with hand-sewn patterns of silver thread and tiny moonstone beads. Over this goes a coat, again similar to the outer robe that he usually wore but much more luxurious, and on top of it all, a mantle cape of several layers of silvery gossamer that trail lightly behind him in a shape reminiscent of the wings of a luna moth. Upon his feet are small silver slippers, and his hands, clasped in a sacred gesture in front of him, are wrapped in a swathe of raw silk that has touched his skin alone.

Three things are unusual about his outfit. Inside the silk covering, his left hand bears the slender ring Sett had given him, such hand jewelry was not really a part of Lunari culture, although Aphelios’ ears are decorated with silver and pearl cuffs as was tradition. On his head also rests a diadem of concentric circles with tines that spread outward, giving him the effect of a holy nimbus. It had been recreated from ancient Lunari literature that detailed the wedding of the members of an ancient royal lineage, said to be the favourites of the Moon herself.

And lastly, over his shirt and coat and mantle, a nearly transparent teal scarf, hand-crafted and embroidered with little moons and rabbits and blooms. A present from Momma.

Alune had also been given her own custom-made ceremonial garb, and she dons it with Rhoanna’s well-meaning but clumsy assistance as Aphelios’ makeup is painted for him by a professional, though he forgoes the traditional white powder the Lunari used to emulate the Moon. His tan and freckles have not yet faded, and he decides he likes them well enough not to obscure them. 

And, once the twins are ready, Sett’s lieutenant offers her concise assessment by exclaiming ‘hot damn!’

Sett’s outfit is much more straightforward, especially considering he refuses to wear a shirt, with Phel’s necklace still ever present, glinting against the Vastayan’s bare skin. Instead, he wears the fur-trimmed haori Momma had sewn especially for him as a wedding gift, over flashy white hakama . He takes hardly less time than his soon-to-be husband though; Sett’s red hair and ears are groomed, he has ensured the best barber was hired to give him a fresh straight razor shave, and he receives a manicure and pedicure, wanting his nails to be clean and tidy considering what the ceremony will entail.

At long last, everyone is dressed and ready, and Kirin comes to escort Sett to the garden, to where his mother, Rhoanna, Kolli and Mazik are already waiting, to where Alune will be guiding her brother in the same way… to where he will marry Aphelios. He diligently follows the protocol he had been given, even though he can’t usually be bothered with such nonsense, he wants everything to be perfect for the Lunari. And so, he keeps his eyes trained on the ground in an imitation of reverence as the old man leads him through the backyard and up onto a small platform that had been built for this special purpose. His nose is sensitive enough that he picks up Aphelios’ fragrance on the breeze, enhanced though it is with other perfumes and oils, and it takes all of his willpower not to disrespect the rules and look at his beloved standing in front of him. Instead, obediently, on the signal of the officiant, Sett lifts his eyes straight from the ground to the sky, finding the moon directly above them.

“Behold Mother Moon,” the elderly officiant instructs as she’d been trained beforehand by Alune in the customs of Lunari weddings. “Observe Her light amidst the darkness of Night, a light that keeps us safe and shows us the way.”

Dumb, Sett can’t help but think to himself automatically. But, somewhat surprising himself, he shoves his sacrilegious impulse aside, and offers up an earnest little prayer of thanks instead.

If you’re the one who had a hand in creatin’ Phel, thank you. Thank you for decidin’ he should be born at the same time as me, and for anything ya ever did to keep him safe. 

Thank you.

And then, finally, now that he is allowed, he looks at Aphelios.

Instantly, his magic bursts to life, a golden crackling fire that flows the length of his body.

He has never seen anyone or anything more beautiful than Aphelios as he is now, resplendent, lambent like moonlight himself. He pulls the magic from Sett’s body the way the tides respond to the moon.

“Holy shit,” Sett says, suddenly choked up, about to be overcome and begin crying again when—

“Language, Settrigh!” Momma scolds him from their small audience, and no one can stop their reaction and so laughter arises from the attendees and the grooms like ripples.

Sett apologizes first to Aphelios, even though Aphelios is smiling so widely it’s clear there’s no need, and then hurriedly looks from the officiant to Alune and back to the officiant again.

“That didn’t wreck the ceremony or nothin’, right? Even though I said a bad word?”

More laughter, as Alune and the officiant agree that all is fine, and they can proceed.

“The Moon guides, guards and gives,” the script continues, “and She has seen fit to weave the orbits of Aphelios and of Settrigh together, She offers two a rebirth into one.”

On this cue, a basin of purified water is brought forth, and a stool that had been stowed to the side is placed on the platform for Aphelios to sit on. In front of him, as he’d been taught, Sett kneels, and with reverence that is not faked this time, he removes Aphelios’ slippers and the silk concealing his hands.

“Wash the hands and feet of the one to whom you pledge yourself Settrigh, and through the holiness of the Moon, cleanse him of the besmirchments of the past, make him as new through Her absolution.”

As he knows he is meant to do, Sett brings the basin near, dipping his hands in the water, cuppingcupping a little in his palms to spill over Phel’s outstretched hands, washing them. The water lingers in little drops on Aphelios’ skin, looking like dew in the moonlight. 

“I make you anew,” Sett recites as he takes the Lunari’s bared feet into his hands, washing these dotingly as well, with touches that linger. “Your body is as my own, your heart is as my own, your faith is as my own. We become one.”

Tenderly, Sett uses the swathe of pure, raw silk to dry Aphelios’ hands and feet, before the Lunari gracefully rises and they switch places as the officiant repeats their instructions and clean water is brought.

“I make you anew.” Aphelios washes Sett’s hands and then his feet, his movements so purposeful, worshipful, it seems like he’s done this a hundred times. It doesn’t necessarily make Sett feel ‘born anew,’ but it does make him feel loved, and so close to Phel that the feeling defies words. “Your body is as my own, your heart is as my own, your faith is as my own. We become one.”

Once he is dried as well, the stool and water are removed, and Sett and Aphelios kneel together in front of the officiant. 

“Like moonsilver refined from ore, so are you purified and forged together under the light of the Moon. Her light shines through the eternal unity of your shared soul, and through your shared faith and immaculacy She shall protect you, for as long as She shall rise. Stand as husbands and let no force tear asunder that which She has seen fit to make one.”

And so, in one small moment that has the weight of years of shared heartache and love and fear and optimism that no symbolic hand or foot washing could ever erase, Sett and Aphelios rise to their feet, and are married.

“Uh,” Sett broaches hesitantly, now that the formal ritual is done, but no one has really made any moves. “Am I allowed to kiss him now?”

The officiant chuckles and grins. “In accordance with the laws of Runeterra, you have been formally married in the custom of your choosing, and my job here is done. You may do whatever you like! I offer you two my congratulations.”

Beaming, Sett turns back to Aphelios and takes his face in his hands.

“Love ya, Phel,” he murmurs, before stooping to kiss his new husband’s lips, at which Rhoanna begins cheering, whooping and hollering, and soon, everyone else is caught up vocally celebrating as well. Even Kirin uncalcifies enough that he manages some applause and a little half smile on his face.

“I love you too, Sett.” Aphelios grins, giving the kiss right back.

“We got married,” Sett smiles toothily, but then his nose scrunches a little and his eyes brim: “y-you’re so goddamn beautiful, I c-can’t believe I get to be your husband…”

“Come, do not cry. We still have what your mother suggested, and then a whole party to enjoy." And then, instead of saying Sett's name, Aphelios adds, "my husband.”

Sett sniffles and nods, letting Aphelios take him by the hand and lead him off the platform and barefoot into the grass, to where a little cherry sapling is bundled in burlap, waiting to be planted. Their guests follow, and Momma explains as her son and her newly minted son-in-law take turns digging a hole to plant the new tree in.

“Settrigh asked me what Vastaya do to wed, and though we do not have any such customs, I thought it would be quite lovely for the boys to give thanks to the land like the Lunari give thanks to the moon. A little tree to grow and take root and bear fruit when it’s ready seemed like a good way.”

“It’s a beautiful idea ma’am,” Kolli says, leaning her head against Maz and watching the newlyweds with a dreamy look on her face.

“It’s a gift to me too,” Rhoanna jokes. “Boss, y’know that my favourite fruit are cherries, right? Seems like a good time to put that out there…”

The group laughs and chats as Aphelios and Sett make quick work of the tree planting, lowering the tiny sapling into the ground and pushing the soil around its trunk together. Alune admittedly had not been pleased that they planned to do such a dirty task immediately after the sacred and symbolic purification of the Lunari wedding ritual, but Aphelios had vehemently disagreed.  Not only did letting a new life take root and grow hardly seemed like a defilement of the hand and foot washing, but it was also an apt metaphor.

If the Lunari ceremony had been about a clean slate rebirth of two into one, then the way Aphelios wanted to ‘dirty’ his hands was with Sett, in shared experience. Not everything needed to always be clean and blank; it was also wonderful to be coloured and shaped by life, and by each other.

The tree is planted and Aphelios moves to rise, but Sett stops him gently, holding his hands before moving them to press them palm down against the fresh earth, on either side of the little trunk, enclosing them with his own massive hands overtop.

“I think I can feel somethin’,” Sett whispers, staring into Aphelios’ eyes with an earnest, wide-eyed expression. “Can you feel anything? From the tree?”

Aphelios is about to automatically say no, but Sett’s never done anything like this before, and so the Lunari takes a breath and looks at the tree before closing his eyes so he can really concentrate. For a little while, he still feels nothing, until spontaneously, Sett’s magic alights over his hands.

It’s so brief, but channeled through Sett’s old nature magic, he fancies that he feels a flicker, like the lighting of a tiny sparkler.

“I think I feel it,” Aphelios says uncertainly. He can’t help but think that what he’s feeling is just his own emotions in response to being married. “It felt like a little burst of happiness. The tree is happy.”

Sett smiles adoringly and approvingly, helping Phel up by his hands, and it’s clear that this is what Sett had received from the sapling too. Secretly, he’s been doing small things like this more often, little moments spent trying to be more receptive and tuned into his Vastayan magic, ever since the conversation with his mother had made him realize how brutishly he was using such a complex, sublime tool.

The subtlety of the experience shifts into jubilation as the live music group they’d hired arrives, and Sett’s house staff begins setting up tables of food and refreshments, lighting garden torches and hanging paper lanterns as they go, now that the ceremony is concluded and the Moon can apparently tolerate a little competition with her light.

Despite the late hour, no one in the small party shows signs of slowing down, and they eat, drink and make merry as the band plays music that one can’t help but dance to. Even Kirin has thawed enough that he’s spent the past hour dancing and conversing with Momma, who’s obviously enjoying the company immensely. Aphelios is feeling content and tipsy as he stands beside a little bonfire lit to stave off the Fall chill, sipping wine and watching with a lopsided smile as Sett and Kolli perform a raucous, impromptu tango dance, cackling and joking with each other, as good of buddies as the Vastayan had suspected they’d be. 

“They’re a lot to handle sometimes, aren’t they,” comes Maz’s voice as he sidles up to the fire, beside Aphelios.

The Lunari looks at him and they smile at each other knowingly, and as if the timing had been scripted, the kraken priestess and the beast-man laugh boisterously when their shenanigans cause them to nearly trip and fall.

“But we wouldn’t have it any other way, would we?” Mazik adds and Aphelios warmly agrees.

Though they are the more reserved partners, their enjoyment is in no way dimmed as they stand to the side, hardly speaking but feeling no awkwardness, watching the mirth of the people they love so dearly. It’s possible that they would spend an hour just watching with quiet amusement, but all of a sudden, a rosy-cheeked Alune ambushes her brother, coming up from behind and playfully surprising him.

“Why are you not dancing?” she hugs his shoulders and grins up at him, catching her breath from her own whirling and twirling with Rhoanna. “I have never seen you dance!”

“I much prefer to watch others,” he deflects, but the truth is, he’s never done it before and letting loose, even with people he likes and trusts so much, makes him feel self-conscious and nervous. Even a little drunk on both alcohol and dancing, his twin sees through him immediately.

“So timid,” she teases. “Imagine Aphelios, the man who defeated a god and yelled at an Aspect, too shy to dance.”

She smirks as he blushes, trying to shush her as Maz listens in avidly. And then, another welcome interruption to the quiet:

“For real, Phel,” Rhoanna hangs off the Lunari’s other shoulder that’s not occupied by Alune, though the two are clearly in kahoots. “Come and dance! But in the meantime—” she smoothly swoops her arms under Alune’s, pulling her off Aphelios and back in the direction of the stretch of lawn serving as a dance floor, “—I’m gonna steal your gorgeous sis, I just can’t get enough of her in this getup! Isn’t she hot?”

Aphelios is about to agree that the ceremonial clothes really do become his sister, but the girls are already out of earshot, laughing to themselves and tearing up the grass, and so he and Maz just laugh instead.

He’s tempted though. He’d love to down a stiff drink, take his diadem and mantle off, and go join Sett and figure out how to move to the music… after all, isn’t combat a sort of choreography too? But he doesn’t want to interrupt the clear fun his husband is having with a dance partner who can keep up with his exuberance.

“ Ku`uipo! ” Kolli calls at that moment, and Aphelios presumes it’s some kind of pet name, as she beckons to Maz. “Come dance with me!”

Her uncanny timing reminds Aphelios of a day that seems a lifetime ago; a day spent laying in the hull of Kolli’s sailboat, teetering between the most profound relief he’d ever felt, having just found Diana, and the weighty knowledge that this had just been a mere prelude to what Aphelios would have to endure. But he recalls that day how he’d half-wondered if Kolli could read minds, she’d known what to tell him and how to reassure him when he hadn’t been able to talk or write. It’s healing… to think of what he felt like that day, the wound in his shoulder, Diana’s conflictedness, what lay ahead of him… and realize it’s all firmly in the past. That this wonderful night is the prelude to the rest of his life, the one he will share with friends like this, with his sister, with Sett.

Emboldened, joyful, and partly to good-naturedly spite his twin, Aphelios carefully sheds his cape, crown and coat, ensuring to stow them where they will not get damaged or dirty, before finding Sett stuffing his face with little cupcakes and pulling him back out into the lawn where they dance together until they’re sweaty and breathless, and unable to recall a time they’ve ever been happier.

“Phel, you alright in there?” Sett calls through the bathroom door, and even he notices how rough his voice sounds, almost irritated.

“Yes,” comes his new husband’s wry reply, gilded with a smile. “It has only been five minutes. Be more patient.”

“How long does it take to ‘freshen up’ anyway,” he fires back despite himself, before starting to pace outside the bathroom door.

Suddenly lost in thought, Sett’s ears sink and he huffs. Only five minutes? It’s felt like thirty. Usually even he can wait a bit longer. This level of agitation and impatience is out of character even for him… he’s not always the best at keeping tabs on his moods and this peculiar one has taken him totally by surprise.

He runs through the possibilities as best he can, though his thoughts are becoming muddled. Is it just because he’s hungry? He’d hardly eaten anything except those tiny ass cupcakes all night, so… is that it? Is this weird wound-up feeling just hunger…? Or maybe he’s tired after a long day and hours of partying and dancing…? No, he’s too agitated for it to be tiredness.

“I can hear you pacing,” Aphelios tells him with the distinct, playful warning tone that if he continues, it’ll just make things take longer.

An animal growl rumbles from Sett’s throat, and without wanting them to, his hands curl into fists.

What on earth? He’s definitely not angry, but he is electrified with the same nervous energy he used to get in the moments before a pit fight would start. He really should go try to eat something, he’s probably just misidentified his hunger as some other mood and the last thing he wants is for Phel to think he’s being cranky on their wedding night, after they’d had such a wonderful time, too.

Stalking to the kitchen, he surveys the platters of food stored neatly, the leftovers from the afterparty. Alune had packed it all away for them in Sett’s cupboards and in his cool room if it needed refrigerating, before she’d left to stay with Rhoanna for the night so ‘the newlyweds could have the house to themselves.’ But looking over it all, Sett still feels profound disinterest in eating. In fact, the smells emanating from the wrapped-up food are weirdly pungent, he feels too-sensitive to the aromas to the point of near queasiness.

Was it normal to feel like this? Maybe it was just the ‘come down’ from having a party, from marrying his soulmate like he’d been waiting to do for years? It had kind of sucked having to say goodbye to everyone once the party had ended, he’d wanted the moment to last forever, but even those farewells hardly meant anything. He’ll see Kirin, Rhoanna and his Momma pretty much every day, and even in the case of Kolli and Mazik, Sett had sent them off with the knowledge that they’d see each other in about half a year at their Spring wedding in the Serpent Isles. So, it doesn’t feel like he’s ‘crashed,’ and it wouldn’t even make sense. Sett has had the blues plenty of times after exciting things he was looking forward to had ended, but this feels entirely different.

Genuinely trying to calm down and figure out what’s gotten him so ruffled all of a sudden, he does a full body scan. His shoulders are tense, crunched almost against his neck, so he lowers those and takes a deep breath, correcting his shallow, quickened breathing. His stomach feels fine. He knows it’s empty but instead of hunger pains, he just feels the effervescent fluttering of anticipation. Anticipation for…?

And then he realizes, he’s half-hard. What the…? How long has he been aroused? Sure, it sometimes happened for seemingly no reason, but he’s been thinking about decidedly unsexy things and even feeling frustrated, so it makes very little sense. It’s not like he’s pent up either, he and Phel had just slept together the night before—

He feels pent up though. That’s what this fucking is. 

All of a sudden, almost with dizzying force, his blood rushes to his dick and his erection becomes so hard it’s painful.

He feels like he hasn’t cum in months, no, in years. And he’s been waiting for Aphelios to finish refreshing himself so he can throw him on the bed and fuck his brains out—

No! He doesn't want that either! In fact, Sett has had special plans for tonight, ever since he’d asked his mother about sharing his Vastayan magic. He wants to make sure their first time having sex as a married couple is romantic and soft, especially after how lovely the ceremony itself had been. It was probably what Aphelios wanted, and worshipful love-making was definitely what he deserved. At this rate, maybe he should do Phel a courtesy and rub one out as quickly as he can so he doesn’t risk acting like a crazy person the moment he lays eyes on the other. He has enough faith in his stamina and ‘recuperation’ that masturbating probably wouldn’t cause many problems, he can always take his time prepping Phel and even making him cum first too…

Sett grasps the edge of his kitchen counter to stabilize himself. His hard-on is throbbing, and coherent thought is becoming more and more unobtainable. He feels like he’s going insane, going feral. Does he have a fever? He brings a shaking hand to his brow and realizes he’s started sweating profusely. Maybe he is sick? This certainly feels like the delirium of a bad fever, but other than his now copious perspiration, the sensitivity to smells and his aching erection, Sett physically feels okay, not like he has the flu.

Maybe he should stay away from Aphelios for a bit just to be safe anyway, as disappointing as it would be to not be able to join together on such a special night, but if this bug is bad enough that it can nearly fell the beast-man who can’t remember the last time he even had a runny nose, then it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Feeling glum and frustrated that a cold of all things is interfering with such a long-awaited occasion, Sett half-walks, half-staggers back down the hallway, preparing to break the bad news that he’s going to get the spare bedroom ready in the hopes he can prevent Phel being infected. 

But then, his over-sensitive sense of smell detects a distinct scent that stops him cold in his tracks, his mouth filling with saliva and his blood turning into magma that scorches through his body. It’s one of his favourite smells in the world, the scent that Aphelios’ body gives off when he’s aroused.

Sett’s vision constricts, the corners growing dim, like it does when he’s in the pits and has taken a couple of blows. It’s a signal that his half-beast heritage has the upper hand, and usually is a guarantee that whatever exists in Sett’s proximity is about to be destroyed.

Dimly, Sett forms the mushy, inarticulate instinct to run, to leave. He’s got to put distance between him and Aphelios because, even though he has no idea why, he’s becoming increasingly sure he’s about to lose control.

A quiet but devastating sound breaks in on Sett’s delirium; the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing.

“Sett?” his lover calls for him.

Panic clouds Sett’s already compromised rationality, he searches ineffectively for a solution, for an excuse or explanation as to why he absolutely must leave Aphelios in the bedroom alone right now and get out of the house.

Unanswered, Aphelios calls again, this time with the slight edge of concern. With the Vastayan just down the hall but out of sight and no closed door between them, Sett can smell his mate’s body even more acutely, driving him within a hair’s breadth of insanity. The only thing that tethers him are his ears picking up the soft footfalls of Aphelios coming to look for him.

“Stop!” Sett snarls, his mouth full of slaver. “Don’t come… don’t come near me right now. I—I’ve—I think I’ve got the flu or somethin’ and I don’t want you to catch it—”

Unfortunately for Sett, his feeble attempt to keep Aphelios away from him is doomed to fail, if he’d had a clearer head he would have known instantly that telling Aphelios to keep his distance because there was something wrong would have the exact opposite of the intended effect. Predictably, Aphelios rushes to the doorway with worry, and at the sight of him, the wind’s knocked out of Sett, he crumbles against the nearest wall as his knees go weak, and the front of his pants dampens with an astonishing amount of pre-cum.

“Sett!” Aphelios’ voice is now full of concern. “You look awful! We need to call for the doctor right away, just let me put on a robe—”

Sett’s ears may take in the words, but they hardly register in his brain, for Aphelios stands silhouetted in the bedroom lamplight, wearing a sheer black kimono and matching thigh-high stockings. It’s not until he processes the suggestion—the threat, really—of another person, even a doctor, coming near Aphelios that Sett snaps out of it.

“No!” he barks back, displaying his fangs. “No one comes in here! No one comes near you! I—I’m…”

The shocked look on his lover’s face at being yelled at is enough for Sett’s fragile humanity to resurface, even if just for a few moments.

“Just… I’m fine, I need to go for a walk, Phel… just gimme a bit to go for a walk and clear my head…”

Sett’s deflated again, braced against the wall, but with gargantuan willpower he heaves himself up to try and make a break for the front door, harder for having to scrunch his eyes shut because the sight of Aphelios’ gorgeous legs in those stockings coupled with the scent of him being ready for sex is embattling Sett’s meagre rationality to its limit. He doesn’t get far, though.

“Don’t be silly, you can’t go anywhere in that state, you look like you’re about to faint from a fever—”

The Lunari is interrupted as Sett whirls around desperate upon hearing Aphelios’ following footsteps, Sett’s body alight with the sudden ignition of magic, his eyes shining, pupils constricted to the narrow slits of a predator.

“Don’t fuckin come near me!” he spits out without thinking, and once again, it’s only the traumatized, helpless look on his husband’s face that gives him the temporary ability to gentle and add an explanation. “Somethin’… somethin’s wrong with me, Phel. If you come near me, I’m… I feel like I’m gonna lose control. I’m terrified of hurtin’ ya, but… I… it’s like all I can think of doin’ right now is eatin’ ya, splittin’ you open, breakin’ ya on me, and makin’ you give me—”

Sett cuts himself off abruptly from saying what was about to come next— making you give me a baby —just due to the sheer illogicality of the statement, but even unspoken, somehow, in the same instant, both men come to a revelatory realization.

Aphelios’ face immediately softens from the horror of Sett snarling at him into knowing comprehension, and Sett’s ears wilt as he understands the extent of his utter powerlessness to fight against the crash of this specific biological tide.

The Lunari defies instructions and again approaches slowly, exactly the same way one would approach a cornered animal, but his body language is confident, he is unafraid.

“Sett… are you rutting?” he asks with tenderness, reaching out to touch his partner, a slight affectionate smile playing on his lips.

Sett shrinks away, back against the wall again, desperate for Aphelios to let him leave and wait out the craze of his animal heat somewhere far enough away that he’s in no danger of causing the smaller man any harm, inadvertent though it might be. 

He also can’t provide an answer because his mouth is full of hot saliva again and he has to devote every frayed thread of his diminished clear-thinking to keep from pouncing on Aphelios right then and there, sinking his teeth into the narrow, irresistible stretch of Aphelios’ exposed white thighs, sucking and licking the skin until it’s raw—

“You don not need to be afraid,” Aphelios tells him, and Sett’s eyes flick back up, watching hypnotized as the Lunari’s tongue emerges to wet his lips, transfixed as those glistening lips part slightly to inhale as their owner carefully chooses his next words.

“What if I want those things too,” the fatal question comes.

Sett whimpers, helpless, his guts shiver in the sudden flood of hormones in his bloodstream, his cock twitches violently against his pants.

“What if I want to be eaten? What if I want your teeth in me?”

Another whine is all the beast-man can muster, but Aphelios is undeterred. If anything, he seems further provoked by how close he appears to helping Sett discard the last of his compunctions.

“What if I want you to split me open?”

Sett’s eyes fixate on the Lunari’s throat, he watches as the other swallows, before his lips fall open again and Sett’s Vastayan ears can hear how his breath has quickened.

“What if I want to be broken on you?”

This time, a hybrid sound emerges from deep in Sett’s throat, both a whimper and a growl. An animal noise. The smell of Aphelios’ arousal is so intense it’s inebriating. Having slowly encroached as he was speaking, Aphelios is now so near Sett, just a foot away, essentially pinning the beast-man against the wall, though he needs not even to lift a finger to do so. The force of his stare and the assurance in his body dominates Sett, even though the Vastayan is the one so close to losing control.

“What if I have been thinking about it all day?” Aphelios pauses, his long fingers finding the hem of his kimono by his collarbone, following its path downward until his palm meets his thigh, and he leaves his hand there meaningfully. “Do you think I would put this on… do you think I would open myself in the bathroom for you… if I didn’t want you to fuck me senseless?”

Sett’s thundering pulse throbs in his cock, harder than iron and feeling close to ripping his pants. He subconsciously unshrinks, shame lost, caution thrown to the wind, rising to his full height, nostrils flaring with the billows of his heated exhales as he meets his husband’s gaze.

The voracious growls that rumble from his chest now are the overture of the animal, carnal act that is about to be performed, and the last vestige of his restraint, now that he’s been given permission, is spent allowing Aphelios to express his final question.

“So,” the Lunari murmurs, his eyes half-lidded from the dangerous pleasure of a snake-charmer leaning so close to the proverbial viper pit. “Will you fuck me senseless, Boss? ”

In the next moment, Aphelios finds himself turned around and bent over, Sett’s dick is already out of his pants, and the small black underwear the Lunari is wearing is yanked unceremoniously to the side, Sett too desperate and crazed to cope with even the small delay of pulling the garment down. The only slight pause that is permitted before Sett slams inside his lover is the second it takes for the Vastayan to spit on Aphelios’ hole.

The house fills with the sound of their two voices, Sett’s is practically a roar as he pounds into the visceral heat of his mate, and Aphelios’ cry that is coloured with both pain and brainless bliss.

Rutting as he is, Sett’s saliva is thick enough he can pump in and out and feel no snags of dryness; even animal and savage his insanity is not so complete that he’s willing to tear Aphelios, but the fact that his ears are getting filled with the uninhibited moans tumbling from his lover’s lips ironically quiets any lingering human concerns he has about surrendering fully to his heat. He watches as Aphelios reaches out to brace himself against the hallway wall, before his vision dims momentarily as he feels Phel use the stability to change his arch against Sett.

Snarling, Sett moves his hands from where they’ve already bruised Aphelios’ hip bones higher up, one on Phel’s unscarred shoulder, pulling him even more upright and intensifying the arch further, the other coming to hold Aphelios’ throat, with just enough pressure that the Lunari’s breath catches. The vibrations of Phel’s voice that Sett can feel in his palm, Aphelios never having been this vocal ever before, gives the beast-man pleasure so intense that it rivals the primal satisfaction of penetration itself.

It feels like both interminable eons and mere, brief seconds pass, as both men revel in the mindless rapture of unashamed, animal fucking.

They are forced to come back to themselves, if only for a moment, when Phel’s underwear snaps back from over his ass cheek and Sett has to take his hand away from Phel’s throat to pull it back, but when it interferes again a few moments later, Sett completely loses patience with it and tears the thin fabric off of his lover entirely. He also takes the opportunity to pause in his maniacal, compulsive thrusting to spit again, watching as he pushes the viscous liquid in with his cock; he wants to mix his saliva, his sweat and his cum and stain Aphelios’ insides with them, dye his essence inside his mate to let the world know that this man belongs to him alone.

Aphelios has dropped his head and is moaning freely, holding himself up against the wall, looking like he would fall were it not there, his legs have begun to tremble. Instead of putting his hand back on Phel’s neck, Sett reconfigures a bit, he moves the hand that was holding Aphelios’ shoulder into a sort of embrace; with his forearm he locks Phel against his chest, and though it means Aphelios can’t reach the wall anymore to brace himself against Sett, it creates a different kind of pressure as Aphelios’ weight sinks harder onto Sett’s cock, his ability to remain standing rapidly decreasing.

The angle of Aphelios’ pelvis is now as acute as his body will allow, and drunkenly Sett places the searing hot palm of his free hand on the tight muscles of Phel’s stomach. The beast-man swears he has never been this hard or engorged in his entire life, and proof of this is that, underneath his hand, he can feel the displacement his cock causes inside Aphelios… with every emphatic, upward thrust, Sett can feel his lover’s abdomen bulge.

Aphelios can feel it too, especially when the pressure is enhanced by the weight of Sett’s hand, and somehow, he manages to form the first coherent words either of them have spoken in minutes.

“Oh gods,” he moans, slurring. “Oh gods… Oh Sett…”

Hearing Aphelios call his name like this ignites the blood in the Vastayan’s body all over again, and miraculously draws an articulate, growled response from him.

“I’m gonna fuck you till you fall apart,” he threatens, and Aphelios moans again, practically collapsing against him. 

“Yes,” Aphelios responds in breathy sobs, reaching up to the base of Sett’s neck to grasp a fistful of crimson, sweat-soaked hair, his other hand holding Sett’s against his own belly—it feels like Sett’s swollen crown might pierce him clean through.

“I’m gonna rearrange your guts. I’m gonna wreck you!”

“Gods, yes,” Aphelios cries back, hot tears forming in the corners of his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. “Mold me… br… break me apart and-and then put me back together… s-so I can never fit anyone else…”

If Sett felt he’d already lost his mind, then his mate pleading to be permanently, indelibly claimed triggers a consuming euphoria, and his superhuman stamina is redoubled. As fast as he’d bent Phel over and entered him, Sett withdraws and turns Aphelios around, in the next instant picking him up in the air and slamming him against the wall, the Lunari’s loudest, most desperate moan yet is forced out of him as he’s spread wide open and filled back up with Sett’s cock, the Vastayan watches with the voracious gaze of a hunter as Aphelios’ features dissolve into an unschooled expression of pleasure.

They kiss.

Uncaring of the glistening thread of spit hanging between their tongues, Sett pulls away, never slowing the momentum of his cleaving strokes—even supporting the entirety of Aphelios’ weight like this is no challenge—and drops his head to the crook of Phel’s neck, where his mouth affixes and he makes no effort to keep his teeth out of the sucking bruise he leaves above Aphelios’ carotid, feeling the throbbing pulse of the Lunari’s crazed heart against his lapping tongue. The taste of his mate’s skin and sweat and blood drugs Sett, and as he moves his mouth to leave mark after mark on pale flesh, he trails rivulets of his thick slaver.

Suddenly, Aphelios lets his head fall against Sett, and his arms that were desperately clutching at Sett’s shoulders lessen their grip, and Sett assumes it might be because Phel is near fainting, but before the kernel of concern can form properly, sharp pain reddens his senses.

Aphelios has bitten him back, and he’s withdrawn his hands from the Vastayan’s neck to slip them under the maned haori Sett still hasn’t shed, his nails finding the beast-man’s bare back, where he rakes them with force.

As Sett howls and almost cums, Aphelios feels the Vastayan swell even more inside him, defying logic. How Sett doesn’t burst and how Aphelios isn’t torn open is a mystery neither of them care to contemplate. The Vastayan retaliates by lifting one of Aphelios legs from where it’s wrapped weakly around his waist, bringing it up so Aphelios’ calf is resting against his shoulder, and the Lunari is flexible enough to handle it. Gleaming fangs bite into the skin there, tearing holes in the fabric of the stocking. The position leaves Aphelios completely at the mercy of Sett’s strength, he is supporting none of his own weight and the effect is that Sett’s cock drives that much further inside. 

The wall creaks as Sett fucks Aphelios against it, as they both cover each other in bruises and scratches and bite marks, as more tears roll from Aphelios’ eyes, mixing with the rivulets of his perspiration on his fever-hot, scarlet cheeks. He is approaching unconsciousness, his leg droops back down and his vision is going double, but he closes his eyes to ignore it so he can solve the last and only need he has right now; the need to climax.

Between his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, his own uncontrollable, hoarse moaning and the delirium of the most intense arousal he’s ever experienced, he begins to masturbate, and it takes a few moments for Aphelios to be able to process the tumbling, slurred words falling from Sett’s lips, like an incantation he can’t help but compulsively repeat.

“…Mine forever… you’re mine forever… you’re mine forever.”

Phel’s heart threatens to fail under the burden of keeping him conscious through the force of his sexual delectation, when the profundity of Sett’s adoration is added on top of it.

Gasping and with his voice tattered for reasons that finally have nothing to do with noctum, Aphelios offers his own promise.

“I’m yours, Sett,”

and then,

“and you’re mine forever, too.”

His vision dims and Sett roars as he slams into Aphelios, ejaculating deep inside, pumping in and in again as he cums and cums and cums. Even as his seed begins to dribble out, down his balls and onto his clothes and the floor, Sett still cums. It’s as if his body wants to fill Aphelios’ completely, consumingly.

He’s shocked out of his orgasm trance as something hits his face, realizing first because of the potent smell and second because of the heady bliss ringing out in Phel’s ragged voice that his partner has climaxed, too.

Two things happen, bringing Sett to a distantly surprising realization. Aphelios’ eyes refocus and he sees he’s accidentally messed his lover’s cheek and chest, and automatically he reaches to clean his spend as he apologizes. Lightning fast and without thinking about it, Sett shifts all of Aphelios’ weight onto his left arm and props him against the wall with his leg, catching Phel’s hand mid-air with his right and stopping him.

With glassy eyes they stare at each other, unspeaking, unthinking. Quite beyond any coherent intention he could possibly form, Sett releases the Lunari’s hand and reaches up to his own face, wiping away Phel’s cum before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking the substance off. He repeats the action with the cooling splotches on his chest, until he’s eaten it all.

While it’s not the first time he’s tasted Aphelios like this, it’s far more powerful. The sensory immersion of the smell coupled with the taste, not to mention that Sett is still rock-hard and slicked with his own semen still inside Phel, this time it has the intensity of completing the first phase of a fateful ritual.

But what Sett has realized as well, though he could hardly put it into words, is that it’s just that—they’ve completed the first phase, and the animalistic impulse driving Sett still requires more.

Wordlessly, Sett switches his grasp and carries Aphelios bridal-style into the bedroom, and the smaller man offers no protest. Some of the violence in Sett’s actions has been calmed, but none of the obsessive compulsion animating him has diminished. He lays his beautiful husband on the bed, mesmerized by the way the kimono is plastered to him in places because of the profusion of sweating, staring with fixation on the stretch of Aphelios’ thighs above the stockings, glistening where Sett’s cum has leaked out and smeared.

“I filled you,” Sett rasps, but it’s less a declaration and more curiously adjacent to a question, though there is no unsurety. Aphelios nods, his face fever hot, wanton.

“Show me,” Sett requests.

There’s a moment where Aphelios doesn’t move, his hormone-addled brain still processing what Sett’s asking of him, but quickly his features re-darken fully with lust, and remarkably, Sett can see how Phel’s softened cock thickens a little as he rolls over on the bed, even after having just so recently climaxed. Sett’s own arousal has barely lessened, and if it had, the sight of Aphelios going on his knees and burying his face in the sheets before reaching behind and spreading himself for his husband to witness would have guaranteed Sett another aching, immediate erection anyway.

Before he approaches, Sett finally disrobes, his haori and messed pants are discarded hastily in a heap. Aphelios shifts his head a little so he can peek, and distantly (though his thoughts are still heavily obscured by his animal heat) Sett is flattered by how his lover’s expression speaks so eloquently of how enamoured Aphelios is by Sett’s naked form. It’s sweet, considering it’s certainly nothing he hasn’t seen before.

Sett gazes down at the spectacle of his opened, fertilized mate; the ring of muscle is wide and relaxed, the skin on its periphery is red and swollen, and wet with fluids. Sett can see the remnants of his spend inside Aphelios, and at the sight, which is absolutely fucking glorious he thinks, his instincts still whisper more .

He approaches the edge of the bed, bending his knees slightly so that his pelvis is level with where Aphelios still has his ass in the air, opened. Grasping the root of his dick, Sett nudges his head against Phel’s slicked entrance, more interested and fascinated for the time being by the sensation of contact, of looking at the action as intensely as feeling it, enspelled by the sight of his tip slipping against Phel’s rim. Then, he uses his fingers to manipulate his hard-on, bringing it up and down, slapping himself dully against Phel’s hole. A mewl from the Lunari is muffled from where his mouth is pressed into the blankets.

Languidly, but still with helpless, automaton focus, Sett pushes in, just his crown. He is hypnotized as he watches his tip disappear inside Phel, the way his mate’s skin sucks in around his girth, watches it as he pulls it out, how it’s shining with wetness.

Again his animal instinct whispers to him, impels him to breed, to guarantee his seed is sown, that none is spilled this time, to watch it as well as feel it.

With a groan that issues from both of them in tandem, Sett abandons his tantalizing and sinks all the way into Aphelios. Only once more does he pull out again, because he wants to see the full length of his cock covered in his own cum, before he thrusts into Aphelios again, with the singular goal of climaxing one final time.

Now that Sett will want the full sensation of Phel clenched tightly around him, the Lunari takes his hands away so he can bury his face on his forearms and grip at the sheets. Soon, his skin is wet with tears, drool, and sweat, and all he can think about as Sett picks up momentum, twisting and grinding his dick into different parts of Aphelios, probing him, is that the Vastayan has truly fucked him to pieces. He doesn’t think his body will ever feel the same after this, nor does he want it to. Being claimed like this was beyond even the wildest of the fantasies that had been maddening Aphelios all day.

Although his superhuman stamina lent to him by his rutting had allowed Sett to maintain his erection even after such a ferocious, physically demanding fucking, it has been depleted and in defiance of an ordinary refractory period, it takes much less time for the Vastayan to cum a second time. But in order to complete the mating, in order to satisfy his instincts, he knows he has to see it.

So close, Sett pulls out, pumping furiously with his hand.

“I’m gonna breed you, I’m gonna breed your hole,” he snarls, intoxicated, before commanding Aphelios to spread himself again.

The Lunari eagerly complies just in time before Sett shudders and ejaculates a second time; he watches unblinkingly as the ropes of his white cum spurt onto Aphelios’ rim, as they slide inside Aphelios’ body. Like before, Sett cums a prodigious amount, he counts fourteen pulses which seems like utter insanity except that with every one, he actually feels like he’s emptying. When he’s done, there’s one last task he must complete before his breeding impulse will be satiated; he inserts his (at long-last) softening cock into Aphelios one last time, pushing all of his seed deep inside, bending forward, gripping Aphelios’ sweat-slicked wrists and trapping the other flush to him, nestling distinctly tender kisses into Phel’s damp, black hair, which makes him hum affectionately in response.

They stay like this for a few minutes, pressed so close to each other, almost inseparable, radiating furnace heat and feeling the other panting against them, Sett still sealing Aphelios.

“Take as long as you need,” Aphelios murmurs to him—unspoken is the understanding that Sett’s biological impulses are requiring him to ensure his seed takes hold, that no one else or nothing else can interfere with the mating until it’s irrevocable, it doesn’t matter that in this case the breeding is physically impossible.

Ironically, it’s with these words that the spell is broken, and abruptly, Sett fully returns to his right mind, and carefully pulls out to collapse on the bed, utterly exhausted and honestly, a bit bewildered.

Wincing but also smiling, Aphelios turns his battered body around so he can face Sett on the bed, and at the same time they reach to hold each other’s hand.

“You knew right away, mooncake,” Sett mutters, smiling back ruefully. “you knew quicker’n I did.”

Aphelios blushes a bit. “I’ve… after your mother mentioned that there are special aspects to Vastayan pairing, I found some books…”

Sett scoffs, belying how he’s still a little intrigued. 

“I was curious!” Aphelios reddens further, and Sett playfully teases Phel for being a smartypants bookworm.

However, the fact remains that thanks to Sett’s disproportionate hatred of his Vastaya heritage growing up and his subsequent rejection of his mother teaching him about most of the truths of his species, it’s possible that if Aphelios has researched it, he knows more than his husband does now, and Sett does want to know too.

“So, you really needed books to tell ya that I could get super fuckin’ horny?” Sett jibes further, but he’s hoping Aphelios will elaborate without him having to ask him to. 

Aphelios laughs. “Well, obviously it was not what I set out to discover, I just wanted to know more about you. Especially to confirm that sharing your magic with me would not be harmful to you in any way, in case it was happening without either of us knowing somehow. But what I did find out instead was that Vastaya… um… well, they have heats and rutting. But it’s closely tied to relationship or life milestones, it is not seasonal.”

Sett chuckles. “I guess I should be grateful that this was a conversation I could avoid havin’ with my Ma.  Some things are definitely better left figurin’ out on your own. But it woulda been nice to know that it was normal and I wasn’t possessed or sick, though.”

Aphelios nods, understanding the initial phase must have been terrifying for Sett. “Actually, I too assumed you would not be affected, since… I mean, as your mother said, apparently for all intents and purposes you already felt mated for life and it hadn not happened yet. So I thought it probably would never. But I will be honest… I couldn’t stop thinking about it today. It is different when ‘the world’ knows you are together, officially. Maybe I was a little in heat myself.”

Sett hmms and considers this, bringing the palm of Phel’s hand to his mouth to kiss while he thinks it over. Then, somewhat childishly, his ears dip and he looks up beseechingly at Aphelios again.

“We’re married, bunny. We’re really married.” Sett’s voice is thick with emotion, like he truly can’t believe it, it’s still a little too good to be true.

Aphelios breaks into an adoring smile, tickled pink at Sett’s innocent, overwhelmed expression.

“We’re married,” he confirms.

“You’re my husband, Phel,” Sett whispers, softly speaking about this new, incredible reality for the first time.

“I’m your husband.”

They both grin, just smiling at each other, and as happy tears begin to moisten Sett’s eyes, he pulls Aphelios close, so he can cuddle him fiercely. He is about to really lose himself to crying as he thinks about how fucking much he loves Aphelios, when abruptly he registers the fabric underneath his fingertips where he’s stroking Aphelios’ back. He pulls away to speak, now that he’s recovered the use of his brain cells enough to also regain his burning curiosity.

“Okay though,” he beams, “where the hell did you get this outfit?”

Cutely, Phel goes totally red again as he explains, somehow it’s different to have to say his thought process aloud than to just… show up and let the clothes (or lack thereof) speak for themselves.

“I did my own shopping one of the days you were out with Alune,” he explains bashfully. “I wanted to surprise you, and… you wrote so many times in your letters about how much you loved my legs. I thought… oh I don’t know, do I really need to explain the rest?”

They giggle together softly as Aphelios covers his blushing face, Sett jokingly pulling his hands away so he can’t hide.

“Ya know,” he sighs contentedly, “it’s kinda scary how well you know me, babe. You know what I want before I know it myself. I’m a lucky man.”

“Does that mean you liked the stockings?” Aphelios teases, running his hand up and down the side of Sett’s body in an affectionate caress.

“You really need to ask?” Sett laughs, “After I literally lost my mind seein’ you in ‘em?”

The Vastayan’s attention drops down as Aphelios playfully swings a stocking-clad leg over his hips, Sett delivering his own caresses across Phel’s thigh, hooking a finger in one of the rips and pulling, appreciating how the tension makes the flesh of Aphelios’ thighs spill through the other holes. “It’s a real shame I wrecked ‘em though. It was certainly fun in the moment, but I don’t want that to be the last and only time I see ‘em on you… you wear ‘em too well.”

Aphelios smiles mischievously before revealing, “well, it’s a good thing I bought replacements,” and more soft laughter falls from his lips as Sett pulls him in even tighter and showers his amazing husband with kisses.

Eventually, they get their (temporary) fill of cuddling and kissing each other, and when Aphelios stretching is interrupted by him wincing again at his aching body, Sett suggests they clean off and get some sleep.

In the bath, as he helps wash Aphelios clean, making reparations on each bruise and bite mark with a tender kiss, Sett does express the only thing on his mind that comes close to a complaint about an otherwise perfect day.

“That was some of the best sex we’ve ever had,” he announces and Aphelios agrees immediately. “But I gotta admit I had it all planned out another way. I wanted it to be all romantic for ya. Well, for me too I guess.”

Aphelios doesn’t seem to understand what Sett means, and he certainly harbours no disappointment for how their first sex as a married couple went down.

“Well,” Sett elaborates, “to be honest, I’ve really been wantin’ to try what Ma talked about. Yeah it was weird as fuck to hear her explain it, but I never knew I could share my magic like that. I mean, who knows if I’ll even be able to since I’m only half, especially since I feel like it woulda already happened with you if I could. ‘N there have been a couple times I’ve used magic on my fingers to help you cum, but that didn’t really feel like anything special. Like I definitely didn’t get any of that shared synesthesia or feelings or memories stuff.”

Aphelios hums thoughtfully, pondering. “You’re thinking that we might have to be intentional about it?”

Sett nods, serious. “Yeah. I’m hopin’ that it’s a mindset thing, ‘n I want to try. It made me feel like I’ve only been usin’ my magic, like, superficially so far. ‘S hard to explain. I can summon it on my body without thinkin’ about it, but if I did that while bein’ inside ya I might actually hurt you. It’s like usin’ electricity. But like when I had to go to the spirit realm, I understood there’s all kindsa ways to use my magic and I’ve really only bothered to learn one. So, I think it… well, I hope it has a chance of workin’, if I can just figure it out.”

Gliding through the water, Aphelios comes to sit sideways in Sett’s lap, kissing him and stroking his jaw.

“Well, I would love to experiment with you, if you feel comfortable,” Aphelios tells him tenderly. “I am not worried about anything going wrong. And I agree, what your mother described sounded special. If there was a way I could share that with you, I would want to.”

“Yeah,” Sett agrees, nuzzling Phel’s hair. “That’s what I meant though. If only I coulda figured out how to share my magic with you, that would have been one hell of a weddin’ night.”

Aphelios hesitates, Sett can tell he was about to speak before second-guessing himself. Never one to not indulge his curiosity, Sett is about to make the Lunari say whatever was on his mind, but before he can, Phel blurts it out on his own.

“Our wedding night technically isn’t over.”

Sett’s ears flatten against his head and his pupils sliver, he feels a potent throb in his crotch. Three times in one night, even after the fury of rutting, is definitely manageable for him, the beast-man. But he’s worried about Aphelios, whose body is already hurting, though he’s promised Sett several times that he’s not the least bit upset about it.

“You gotta be careful sweetheart,” Sett advises as a default, back in his right mind and able to exercise caution even in this face of his lust. “I mean… there’s no rush. We got the rest of our lives to have fun together, and I don’t wanna hurt—”

Sett is cut off from what he was going to say—I don’t want to hurt you badly—by Aphelios switching his position in his lap, straddling him. A full-body shiver streaks through the Vastayan as Aphelios says…

“How many times am I going to have to have to ask you to fuck me tonight, Settrigh?”

“Phel, you promise me?” Sett presses, insisting, his ears unconsciously drooping back as hovers on top of Aphelios, who is lying supine in swathes of silk bedsheets, rumpled where the Lunari had writhed against them as Sett had re-opened him with his fingers and tongue.

Aphelios nods, but gives his own recommendation as he widens the spread of his legs and lets all of Sett press against him. “I know why you are worried, but try to let go of that. Trust yourself as much as I trust you.”

“Promise me though,” the Vastayan repeats again, almost upset. “At the first sign of anythin’ that hurts, even a little, you tap my head three times, ‘n I’ll stop.”

Aphelios gives a gentle smile at this needless reminder of their long established ‘safe word.’ It’s clear that Sett still harbours a great deal of anxiety around his magic, if he’s reminding Aphelios so redundantly and repetitively.

“I promise,” he commits. And even though he is hot with anticipation and arousal, he qualifies: “I know you have experiences with your magic where people were hurt, and that you are worried about not being able to control it. If you need more time before you feel comfortable, then let us wait.”

Aphelios leans up to kiss Sett’s nose, wrapping his arms around Sett’s neck he stares into lovesick golden eyes, bright yellow with the agitation of anxiety, and looking back at him with a plaintive expression.

“Just know that I trust you completely,” Aphelios elaborates, “and that I am not frightened of you. Or of your magic, at all. My faith that you can control it, even with a new use like this, is total.”

Sett hesitates before the tension melts from his face as his husband’s words sink in.

“Alright, mooncake,” he grins. “You’ve convinced me. That bein’ said though… I don’t think I can concentrate on sharin’ my magic and gettin’ hard at the same time.”

Aphelios chuckles and tells Sett he has no problem taking care of the second part. “The same goes for you too, though. At the first sign you sense anything unpleasant with your magic, please protect yourself and stop.”

Sett promises and with all of it settled, he begins to focus. Meanwhile, Aphelios raises his hips, pressing his cock into Sett’s, and grinding ever so gently, supplementing with the caresses of one of his hands until they are both stiff enough that more pressure doesn’t hurt. The frottage leaves them both panting and hard, and while Sett reaches for the vial of lubricating oil and applies its contents to his erection and Aphelios’ hole, Aphelios notices how his animal eyes have warmed into the deep amber colour that means their owner is back to feeling comfortable and content. The Lunari smiles into the kisses the beast-man bestows, gasping against his lips when Sett presses and then slides inside him smoothly. Aphelios can’t help but think that, even if the sharing of old hereditary magic doesn’t work out, that there’s still a simple magic in being connected like this with Sett, the love of his life, and now his husband too.

The Vastayan seems indecisive, not moving within Aphelios but not fully relaxing and just holding him either. After a moment or two more of this hesitation, he blurts out how he’s feeling.

“It’s too weird to stay still Phel,” he confesses, and Aphelios tries to keep the smile off his face. “Makes me think about how I gotta be concentratin’ which makes it harder to concentrate, and even though I’ve held ya plenty of time like this… I dunno, feels weird to be doin’ it on purpose. It’s makin’ my head too noisy to focus properly.”

“Then move,” Aphelios recommends simply. “Do what you would normally. Maybe if you keep it more in the back of your mind rather than forcing it, it will come easier?”

“Well it better come before I do,” Sett wisecracks and they giggle together before Sett offers his serious opinion. “Yeah, it could help. I wish there was some kinda spell or some shit I could say and it would just turn it on like a switch…”

Aphelios moves one of his hands to cup Sett’s cheek, suddenly thoughtful. “Don’t force anything, Sett. Don’t think of this as a potential failure. Just… just show me your love, think of giving it to me like a tangible gift. And I will receive it.”

Something in this esoteric remark somehow makes total sense to Sett, and the act of sharing his magic immediately becomes significantly less complex, less intimidating, more intuitive. He begins to move in deep, slow, curving strokes, and even if he’d wanted to hold onto a coherent plan, it would have been lost amidst the subtle explosion that goes off inside his heart and head every time he hears Aphelios moan. Automatically he wants to chase the wonderful sound, he wants to make Aphelios moan again, but it’s a desire motivated by far more than the wish to give physical pleasure. 

Naturally as he can feel Aphelios warming and swelling around him, he thinks of how lucky he feels, how overwhelmed he is with love, how this man can finally stay in his arms for more than a few cherished but brief nights… how that’s only possible because Aphelios is a hero and has fulfilled the inexorable call of Fate… which means that Aphelios is safe, that Aphelios can finally pursue his own happiness, and that Sett is the one who gives him that happiness.

As he thinks this, something ineffable begins to happen within him; it’s like his blood is thickening into sweet, warm nectar, that his veins and heart and body are suffused with this sweetness, where before if he was ever conscious of the ignition of his magic, it felt like his blood was boiling, searing through him and erupting on his skin. For some reason, automatically, he visualizes this new warmth pouring from him and onto Aphelios like honey, covering him and filling him with the same gentle, inebriating heat that he feels.

Underneath him in the same moment, Aphelios watches as a familiar glow emerges across his lover, but much closer to the energy of water than of flame, the form it usually takes when Sett is excited or angry. Though he would love to watch this new phenomenon he closes his eyes and focuses, because he feels the supernatural, indescribable sensation of an energy that wishes to merge with him; so similar to tethering under the noctum, but more… respectful. A union and not an erasure. He takes a deep, calming breath, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around Sett and pulling him flush against him, burying his face into the crook of Sett’s neck, before he grants permission to the seeking energy, communicating wordlessly that he wishes for it to saturate him, to fill him up and flow between the two of them as if there is no barrier at all.

The moment he thinks this, they are immersed in each other wholly, totally.

It’s like they’ve been plunged into warm, deep water, dissolved into it but not lost, and the experience is not remotely threatening. It feels natural, more natural than occupying their distinct bodies, it feels like this was the way they were created.

It feels like a reunion; the fusing of two halves that were never meant to make up anything less than the whole.

“Phel,” Sett gasps, and Aphelios isn’t sure it wasn’t his mouth that formed that syllable too, or with whose ears he is hearing it. He feels simultaneously how he is holding Sett, but also how Sett feels being held by him. He feels the stimulation of Sett against his insides, but also how the tight heat of his walls makes Sett feel when he’s inside him. The overlap between them is total, more pure, more inarticulate than any bond forged by the noctum. On the noctum Alune would ask him which of us am I? but within the shared paradise of Sett’s magic, this question is pointless. Because the I doesn’t exist, there is only an us .

“Phel,” Sett murmurs again, voice thick with emotion and tears that Aphelios feels brimming. He knows Sett wants to tell him how much he loves him, but in this state, trying to put such an immense feeling into small, clumsy words would not only leave the Vastaya inconsolable, but is unnecessary.

“I know,” is all Aphelios whispers. He knows because he feels like he is blissfully drowning in the synesthesia of Sett’s love, just like he can feel how the wordless immense complexity of his own love is submerging Sett. “Me too.”

“Gods,” Sett chokes out, gratitude welling within their shared soul, and then he dips his head so his mouth can meet Phel’s.

The experience casts a ripple, a little shockwave through their private ocean. There is a blast of sensation and sensory information, mixing together in a way that makes no sense and perfect sense, preceding the potent recollection of memories that detonate like fireworks.

On Aphelios’ lips and tongue, Sett initially tastes bitter, electric blue. It’s the unnatural colour of burning poison… the stored trauma of Aphelios imbibing the noctum, and he nearly quakes under the crushing weight of the recollected pain the Lunari has experienced, pain so heart- and body-breaking it left numbness in its wake. Because their connection is so immediate and mutual, Aphelios tastes what Sett tastes, remembers his own memories through Sett’s mind, but he gently refuses to succumb to any of that old darkness. 

He kisses Sett more emphatically, and the taste transforms; it’s soft pink, it’s the heady scent of jasmine, it’s the lush bouquet of fine cherry wine… a drink shared over a meal of kraken meat years ago. They hear the taste of cherry wine in the sound of soft raindrops, listened to from Sett’s porch.  It’s the sight of Sett’s own smile, of Sett watching Aphelios gaze at blooming moonflowers. The taste also cannot be disentangled from the turquoise smell of the perfumed hot water of Sett’s bath… the taste becomes the fizzy, candy-sweet excitement from a first kiss, both men can taste the bliss of the first time they made love together. All of their senses blend organically, and the memories of the first time they confessed their feelings for each other permeate them with the soft tenderness of being soaked by warm summer rain.

“See?” Aphelios asks simply, and with that one word, they both understand that they are safe now, that the sorrow is behind them, and that all that awaits them is this flood of mutual joy, of love. Sett is overwhelmed by the curious sensation of being thankful for himself, until he realizes that he is experiencing the emotions of Aphelios’ heart.

The feeling is intoxicating, and Sett drunkenly wades through it, unfurling all of it; in their feet he finds the recollected leaf-green sensation of dancing barefoot in the grass just earlier. Through the memories held in their hands he smells fine paper and the sooty aroma of an ink stick mixed with water, the cream-coloured satisfied exhaustion of a year spent writing long letters to each other. 

He gets immediately, extremely aroused when he kisses the emerging bruises and bite marks he left in white skin earlier, when they’d fucked primally, viscerally. Contrary to their purple colour, they taste of vivid, luscious red. His cock swells as he also tastes how hot he made Aphelios, how mind-meltingly pleasurable it was for Aphelios to be unraveled by the animal compulsions of his partner, and because he feels it, it means Aphelios is feeling it again; confirmed by a throaty, sobbing sigh that spills out of Aphelios that sounds vivid red too and in pure, uncontrollable rapture, the Lunari’s back arches and his toes curl.

Sett is almost completely lost to this ecstasy by proxy, when the shock of a shadow smothers his senses. He feels pain in his left shoulder, accompanied by the rotten smell of decay, and the choking taste of ash, he hears black, he hears… blood. The terribleness of this experience is so sudden and disorienting that they both cry out, and the spell of the shared magic is nearly broken when Sett is unable to tell if the source of the pain is an immediate, real-life threat and he sits up and seizes Aphelios into his lap protectively. It’s only then that he understands there is no surprise attacker. Instead, his eyes fall onto the dark, ill-healed scar marring Aphelios’ left shoulder, left there by Thresh’s sickle. The wound that nearly ended his life.

When Sett realizes that this pain is what Aphelios copes with every time he moves his shoulder and that the darkness, the fetid rot and the ash are just partial manifestations of what the Lunari’s body stored from the Shadow Isles…

…he begins to weep.

“Don’t cry,” comes Aphelios’ tender, adoring whisper. “Don’t cry, my love.”

But the tears fall, and Aphelios feels as if it's his own cheeks that are wet. He reconfigures himself in Sett’s lap, wrapping his legs around the Vastayan’s waist, holding his face in both of his hands, feeling his kisses on his own skin as he presses his lips to the tear streaks.

Through their shared consciousness, he communicates what words could only address inadequately; that both of their bodies bear the stains of the wounds and the wrongs inflicted upon them. That even now Aphelios can see rust red and within it, the distant memory of heavy metal manacles around Sett’s neck, from when he’d be kept chained like a wild beast in between getting thrown into the pits for death matches. Just like the sharpness of the knife that left the dark scar across Sett’s nose pours across his senses; the memory is so vivid that Aphelios can look out through Sett’s childhood sight and see the leering face of the knife-holder, a bully who couldn’t have been older than thirteen, before it’s all a blur of blinding red as Sett’s blood runs into his eyes. And he knows that Sett can feel the black-blue-grey misery and deadly chill of the pools on Mount Targon Aphelios froze in, that the Vastayan can taste the ice that represents the moonsilver knife that carved into him along the edges of his tattoos, because Aphelios’ own bones and body still store the trauma of the purification rituals.

But he also communicates that these are in the past, and that they can gently dissolve these stains in the wellspring of their shared devotion, that the safety of their bond and the promise of their long future together can be the balm on those old wounds… and that the flesh also remembers the security of an embrace, the delight of a kiss on swollen lips just as well as it remembers any injuries.

Sett feels the intimate urging to make more of this kind of wonderful memories, to seal their everlasting devotion within kissed skin, to worship each other within the shrine of this physical, spiritual act.

And then, to put a fine point on how miraculous and joyful this is, Aphelios impulsively leans forward and licks the lingering tear drops from Sett’s cheeks, kisses the dew from Sett’s red eyelashes. Soft blue salt floods both of their tastebuds, and the wet heat of Aphelios’ tongue on Sett’s skin that they both feel is enough to instantly fill them to the brim of their arousal.

Agreeing to the act of worship suggested wordlessly by Aphelios, Sett moves a couple pillows behind him so he can lean back a little, helping the Lunari lift himself up before finally guiding his erection inside once more as Aphelios sinks down onto him. It’s impossible to say from whom the hunger originates, but the fact that both their bodies yearn for more momentum and for Sett to reach as deep inside Aphelios as is physically possible, is plain.

Aphelios rolls his hips, relishing the way he can feel Sett pressing up against him from the inside, laughing as Sett curses softly when Aphelios leans back too, causing Sett’s cock to throb and strain against the tension of Phel’s abdominal muscles. Sett watches himself through Aphelios’ eyes as the Lunari wantonly writhes against the beast-man’s hardness, sees his own imperfect perfection because that’s how his husband sees him. And because the question of whose body is feeling what is hypnotically impossible to answer, Sett does what’s becoming one of his favourite things to do while making love to his husband, and reaches out and places a heavy, hot palm against Aphelios’ stomach, increasing the intensity of their sex, both feeling two-fold pleasure of penetration and being penetrated, feeling more like an inseparable, mutual renewal more than anything as reductive as an act given by one and received by the other.

And now Sett returns to his own perspective and watches as Phel’s eyes roll back and his face contorts with overwhelming ecstasy. Through their tether, Sett feels the bloom his touch triggers within Aphelios—the taste of cinnamon and sugar... Aphelios feels a warm shade of light, amethyst purple when Sett touches him.

Aphelios begins to moan again, formless, panting monosyllables, which Sett can feel resonating in his own mouth and throat. Sounds made by a healthy, beautiful voice; a treasure once lost but since returned, and still Sett’s favourite sound in the universe, a silver, starlit sound that makes Sett taste honey, makes his heart glow ichor gold… but it’s too much, the excess of emotions is such a simultaneous depth and height that Sett is overwhelmed.

The action is abrupt, but Aphelios is not surprised when Sett sits up suddenly and gently butts his head into his pale chest, or how insistently the Vastayan’s muscular arms encircle his tattooed torso, holding him tightly. Aphelios knows on several levels that Sett is on the verge of sobbing again, he can feel the shared, raw, kaleidoscopic abundance of emotion and he feels like crying because of it too. But something about his huge husband’s tears always impels him to soothe and comfort as a first priority, so without really thinking it through, Aphelios reaches up to caress Sett’s hair and ears, the beast-man’s head still pressed heavily against him and emitting sniffling sounds.

But the moment his fingers make contact with Sett’s sensitive animal ears their shared vision goes white, it’s like they’ve been hit by lightning, but the strikes roll one after the other like crashing waves—heat, bliss, breathlessness, the crescendo of a deafening song, the tiny, tremendous explosiveness of a sprout piercing the shell of its seed—their shared heart skips so many beats it makes them dizzy, and the supernatural phenomenon of natural union unfolds between them, through them, over them.

They are collapsed in each other’s arms and gasping by the time either of them begin to comprehend what just occurred, their climax feeling less like a sexual culmination and more like surviving a meteor falling from the heavens. Aphelios had never understood quite how good Sett felt when he touched his ears, but the intensity of the pleasure is obvious now.

“Holy fuck,” Sett huffs out, recovering the ability to speak a little faster because the old magic had originated from him, but even born with it this new expression of it has floored him. “I was pretty sure I was gonna die.”

Aphelios’ hyperventilation hitches in a way that sounds like an attempt at laughter, and Sett gives a little raspy chuckle in response.

“You know me,” he murmurs into Aphelios’ hair, pulling him close and only then realizing that they’ve created a huge, wet mess on the sheets. “I wanna talk about everything, but I don’t think I got the words to talk about what just happened.”

Phel can only respond with a faint nod, and a snuggle into Sett’s chest; his fully human body feeling like it just came out on the other side of an erbok stampede. But he doesn’t regret a thing… he just may need a day or two of comatose bed rest to recover.

Later, after hours of sleeping, they will discuss it again, find words this time, even clumsy and inadequate ones, and agree that the experience was incredibly similar to the connection created by the noctum. But where the noctum felt very otherworldly—not truly meant for the mortals of Runeterra and thus it exacted a very dear price from its user—that the Vastayan magic was utterly of this world… its most vibrant, eloquent, gestalt expression, and might overload but only in the way that witnessing the miracles of nature could be overwhelming.

But for now, after recuperating his strength for a few minutes, Sett collects an already half-asleep Aphelios in his arms and makes a brief detour to the bathroom to clean them up a bit before settling them both into the fresh bed of a guest room. Aphelios is fully asleep by the time Sett tucks them both in, slinging an arm over Phel’s hips, pulling him close, pressing a soft kiss with scarred lips to the tip of his new husband’s nose.

The tip of Phel’s nose is slightly cold when Sett kisses it this time, and so the Vastayan pulls him in closer, wraps the blanket around them a little tighter, as they sit together in the lounge chair on Sett’s veranda, having watched the night-time blooming of the moonflowers.

Aphelios has been peacefully asleep for about an hour already, although he’d made a soft, small sound when Sett had kissed him. Sett can’t blame him for his exhaustion; they’ve had a busy few days, after needing two day to recover from their wedding night, their time had been filled with preparations for their two-month long honeymoon, and an appointment for Sett where he’d gotten a line of ink tattooed around his ring finger, deciding to do so after coming to the conclusion that actual jewelry would be too great a hazard ‘on the job.’ 

And then, they’d had to send Alune off for her safe return to Targon that morning, making the day an especially long and hard one for the Lunari. He’d been deeply conflicted about pursuing his own private enjoyment and leaving his sister alone, until Alune herself had scolded him for being so maudlin about it. Unable to keep from overhearing the twins saying their goodbyes, Sett had been so proud of both of them, especially Alune, who’d so emphatically encouraged Aphelios to enjoy his honeymoon. It won’t be long before they see each other again anyway, given that Sett had received formal permission from the Lunari elders to enter their concealed city, and the three of them console each other with promises of how much fun they’ll have catching up when they reunite.

From within the trees, stirred by the breeze that holds the dampness of impending rain, a nightingale sings. Sett hears the trilling song as a bright, cleansing citrus flavour, a vestige of the synesthesia from the unlocked Vastayan magic he’d shared with Aphelios. His mother had sensed the difference in the flow of his magic immediately, and the look of delight she hadn’t been able to hide when he’d finally accepted her offer to help him nurture the gifts of his heritage had made him regret not being mature enough to want to explore it sooner. In a way, it was yet another emotional growth spurt that he’d only felt brave enough and optimistic enough to go through thanks to Aphelios’ support.

“How long was I asleep?” The Lunari murmurs, stirring and rubbing some warmth back into the rosy tip of his nose. 

“Dunno,” Sett replies in a low, relaxed rumble. “Maybe an hour? Didn’t feel like that long though. You can keep sleepin’ though, mooncake. I know ya had a rough day.”

“Mm…” Aphelios intones his agreement as he shifts a little, but makes no move to leave Sett’s lap, where he’s curled up snugly. “But we will see her again, when we visit Targon, together. I can’t wait to show you everything… we will have to figure out where you can sleep because my bed is far too small—”

“I ain’t sleepin’ in any bed that doesn’t have you in it too,” Sett interjects, calming when he sees how Aphelios grins. “Kinda wild though, thinkin’ about meetin’ the rest o’ the Lunari, bein’ able to see where you grew up ‘n stuff. I promise I won’t start any fights with ‘em if you promise you’ll show me your secret mountaintop? The one ya wrote about in your letters.”

“Of course. I would love for you to see the fledgling stellacorns flying, and we should arrive in time for the yearlings to be learning.”

Sett pouts a little. “Aren’t those the ones ya said you have to be real quiet before they come out? I dunno if I can keep my mouth shut long enough.”

Straining up a little, Aphelios gives a little peck on Sett’s moue, which instantly softens into a smile. “Conversely, you might charm them into showing off for us with that silver tongue of yours. I know it worked on me.”

Sett is about to flirt back when rain arrives, announcing itself in staccato taps that quickly turn into the hush sound of a rain shower.

“Let’s get back inside,” Sett says automatically, readying to pick Aphelios up and carry him to bed, but he’s stopped.

“Can we stay? I like listening to it. I love it here, on your porch with you.”

The beast-man smiles, and they snuggle even deeper into the lounge chair, untouched by the rain that’s falling in sheets from the overhang, untouched even by the chill of early Fall as they warm each other inside the massive comforter. The nightingale from earlier has stopped singing, and sentimentally, Sett hopes it’s somewhere cozy and dry, too.

“Are all your little toes and fingers all tucked in?” Sett checks. “Your nose was a cold earlier.”

“I am toasty,” Aphelios promises, laying his head back against Sett’s chest, the Vastayan’s strong heartbeat like a bassline to the rain. The moment is so serene, Aphelios feels so safe and content; his eyelids begin to feel heavy, his blinks get slower and slower as he watches the cascade of raindrops gliding off the white petals of the blossomed moonflowers nearby.

“So nice,” he murmurs about nothing specific. It is a general remark on the rain, the security of the blankets, the garden in front of them, their imminent departure for their honeymoon, the warmth of Sett behind him.

“Yeah,” Sett kisses his cowlick, remembering a night so similar to this one two year ago, two years that have felt like a lifetime. “It is.”

But truly, they still have a lifetime ahead of them.

Aphelios’ breathing slows and he gets heavy with complete relaxation, so Sett assumes he’s fallen asleep again. He’s sure that he’ll doze off soon enough as well, but for now, he wants to stay awake, storing every detail of this simple perfection in his memory forever.

“I love you,” Phel says quietly out of nowhere, surprising Sett. So, he must not have been asleep after all, Sett smiles, or maybe he was and woke up only for a moment to tell him that, because a second later he truly is soundly slumbering.

“Love ya too, bunny,” Sett tells him, fancying that Aphelios will hear those words within his dreams.