Archive of Our Own ^beta

            The warm oak of the front door was a welcome sight, calling Baden in as he stepped up to the small porch of the cottage, knocking as much of the snow off of his cloak as he could. The winter was biting, and the winds were cold, and he certainly had not wanted to leave the house at all- but the horses needed tending to, and it was his turn to tend to them. Really, it hadn’t been that bad, they reasoned, flipping their hood off, but still the burst of warm air that swept over them when they pushed the door open was more than a welcome blessing. Baden had never particularly liked the winters, even in life, but now, in this second state of reincarnation, he liked them even less. The remnants of the elemental emblem that had stayed with them seemed to surge back to life as they stepped into the warm home, veins of plant matter thriving underneath the living wood. 

He kicked the door closed behind him and shucked off the cloak, shuddering at the sudden temperature change. They could already feel patches of moss and small flora blooming along his back and shoulders, reaching towards the heat of the home. 

A clatter from within the house called his attention, and Baden glanced up, taking a few steps further in. As if on cue, Thane popped out of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with a soft smile when he saw Baden. His hair was swept back into a high ponytail, some light blue strands framing his angled face beautifully. Baden had told him, once, that his hair looked beautiful pulled back, and now he seemed to always wear it up when he was working around the house. 

Having long set aside the leather armours of years past, Thane only ever really wore loose, casual clothing- though his taste for the finer things had never gone away, as he still dressed in rich, expensive blues, with simple yet elegant golden jewelry adorning his neck. It was something that Baden found endlessly endearing, how Thane would weave gold ribbons into his hair and dress up in silks just to lounge around the house. 

“You’re right on time,” Thane called, disappearing back into the kitchen, “I just put on some tea. How were the horses?” 

“They were fine,” Baden responded, following his husband into the house, “cold, though, as always. How much longer do you think this snow will last?” 

They’d barely set foot into the kitchen before Thane was shooing them out, ushering them towards the warm hearth of the home. “Go, sit.” He demanded, pushing them towards the sofa, “I didn’t cut all that firewood yesterday for nothing. And the tea’s almost done.” 

Baden chuckled, putting up some playful resistance before giving in to his husband’s demands, collapsing down on the couch and letting his muscles thaw in front of the crackling fire. He could feel the living matter on his skin warming up, sprouting again after being beat back from the cold. A few plants and flowers continue to spring up in between the crevices of the wood, and Baden let them, soaking in the comfortable warmth of the home. 

The fire bathed the entire room in a soft orange light, elongating the shadows and dancing along the walls. Baden could hear the soft chimes of a birdsong- something that would be completely out of place in the dead of winter, if they did not live with Thane. The sourceless chirping of birds seemed to follow him everywhere, even after parting with the elemental emblem. 

The glimmering of the Lotus Blade caught Baden’s eye, and he shifted to admire it from it's perch on the mantle above the fireplace. The display was really only for show- Thane took the blade down at least once a day, so that they could spar, or even just to polish it. The metal shone in the firelight. 

“I always feel cruel when it’s your turn to go outside in the winter,” Thane said, sweeping into the room with a grandeur. His flourish and style was always something Baden had admired in their younger years, a taste of beautiful elegance that sprung from his intricate blade work and finesse. He had lost it, for a little while, after Baden had died, and when the weight of the world was resting on their shoulders. But in the years since, those small flourishes had begun to return, peeking through the cracks as finally, finally, Thane had started to relax, started to let go of that weight of guilt. It still wasn’t the same, though- there was none of that haughtiness he used to emit when they were younger. He had lost that superior air a long time ago. Thane would flush whenever Baden brought up what he was like in the past, wether from embarrassment of regret, and mutter about how glad he was that he’d been humbled to let go of his holier-than-thou attitude. So Baden wouldn't mourn this change- how could they, when it was a sign of growth? 

With a soft clink, Thane set down a tray on the table in front of them, the smell of sweet herbal tea wafting up from the mugs set on top of it. He moved to sit beside Baden, before pausing for a second and bringing his hand up to brush against something on their shoulder. 

“You’re blossoming again,” he commented, gently plucking a grey-blue rose from Baden’s clavicle. 

“I know,” they huffed, smiling as Thane tucked the bloom behind his ear. “Why do you feel cruel?” 

“Because,” Thane groaned, plopping down on the couch and curling into Baden’s side, “It’s like I’m hurting you. You always look so… grey, when you’re out there.” 

Baden chuckled, winding his fingers through Thane’s hair, drawing it out from its ponytail. “I’m fine, Thane. I’m a tree, not a houseplant. I can handle a little bit of cold.” 

“I know, but still.” Thane complained, resting his head on a soft patch of moss on Baden’s shoulder. They elapsed into a comfortable silence as Baden sipped from their drink, letting the warm tea chase away any lingering cold. 

They felt Thane take a deep breath beside them, settling into his shoulder even more. The sensation of warmth, of feeling someone so close to them, was something that was still relatively new to Baden. After a childhood spent mostly alone, and then over a decade of seclusion and repulsion from society, the past few years had been nearly overwhelming in the pure volume of affection Baden had received. Not only from Thane, but Nevanthi, Estrilda, Solise. The entire Island of the Banished, and the rest of the emblem bearers, had been such a drastic change to him, and in some ways it still was. Baden had never been so surrounded by so much kindness and love before. Even now, alone in their little cabin, it wasn’t just them. It never was. 

“We got a letter from Solise earlier,” Thane muttered, as if reading their thoughts, “she wants to know if we’ll visit her sometime soon.” 

Baden laughed lowly, imagining the long, carefully written letter he was sure Thane had to parse through. “What’s her excuse this time?” 

“She said she needs help winterizing her cabin, and with the garden.” 

“Oh, that garden one is ridiculous. She's a better gardener than both of us combined. And it’s a little too late to prepare for winter.” 

“You know she just wants to see us.” 

“Oh, I know. Tell her that she doesn't need an excuse to have us over- actually, do mention that we’d still be happy to help with the cabin. That one might be genuine.” 

“Ten steps ahead of you,” Thane said with a yawn, “I’ve already written the letter. I left it on my desk in case you want to add your own message at the end.” 

“You’re a Godsend,” Baden muttered, twisting a lock of blue hair around his finger. One of the things he was the most glad to leave behind was the tedious nature of letter writing. He hated the long, boring letters he had to read and write, the suffocating formality of it all. And they’d never kicked their awful handwriting into shape, no matter how many tutors had tried. Baden was infinitely grateful that Thane was not only adept at letter writing, but in fact enjoyed it. 

Especially now, with his second new form, he found it difficult to handle things with the precision that letter writing required. The sharp wooden talons that adorned his hands made handling small details difficult, even if he had bounds more control over them than he did in his undead body. 

He drummed those talons on his mug now, listening to the sharp noises they made on the ceramic. 

Only a year ago, Baden had been terrified of those claws. He’d pulled his hands away from other people, from Thane, terrified he’d scratch them, terrified he’d draw blood. But now, they wove their hands through their husband’s hair, twisting their wrist to admire the glimmering silver wedding band on their finger. 

Thane had changed Baden, no doubt. After that decade of wandering barren lands, of desperately shying away from any human connection, Thane had found him and effectively saved him. Thane had shown them that they could still be loved, that they weren’t a monster, and that no matter what, they had a family. And in turn, Baden tried to help Thane, tried to wind back the heaps of damage and guilt his death had caused. And now, they were at an impasse. 

Baden still woke up in the middle of the night, desperately scraping at the spot in his chest where the eye used to be, jumping at every shadow as they swore they could feel the lich clawing at their back.

Thane still held onto him a little too tight at night sometimes, still caught himself staring at the stump of his right arm in the mirror, still panicked sometimes, when Baden was gone for too long. 

But it was better. 

They were better. The bad moments happened, but they happened with less and less frequency. And when they did come about, they had someone to lean on, be it each other or their friends. Solise would always be there to drag them out to her garden, Talene to ask for their help on a small quest, Estrilda to demand they help her out with the army. 

“We did it, didn’t we?” 

Baden only realized that he’d said the thought out loud when Thane sleepily went “hmmm…?” From his place, nestled into the curve of Baden’s body. Baden let his hand drift to rest on Thane’s jawline, rubbing their thumb along his ear. 

“I mean… we won. We’re okay. I… I’ve been looking for something for so long. Even before I had died, there was something missing, and I think… I think that this was it. This is what I’ve been searching for.” He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, trying to put words to the flurry of feelings in his mind. “There’s still things to do, and it isn’t perfect at all but… I’m happy. I’m satisfied. For once, I do not dread the future. When I was bound by the lich, I saw the sprawl of years ahead of me as a punishment, and now I see it as a treasure. And I don’t really know what victory looks like, but this… this feels right. It feels like we’ve made it.” 

The silence hung in the air for a few seconds, and the words sat heavy as they both processed what Baden had said. 

“Yeah,” Thane breathed after almost a minute, “yeah, you’re right. You’re right. We’re safe, aren’t we? We’re happy. I don't think you can get any better than that.” Thane took a long sip of his tea, watching the dancing flames. “I mean, of course it isn’t over. Maybe it never will be. But this is good. This is enough.” 

In lieu of an answer, Baden turned slightly and pressed a kiss to Thane’s temple, burying his nose in his hair and breathing the lingering smell of fresh breeze. He could feel Thane smile under his hand, felt him turn his head until he could press a kiss in return onto Baden’s palm. 

Baden shifted then, silently setting his own mug down and turning his body to face Thane. He drew Thane’s face into his hands, tracing their thumbs along his cheekbone as they cupped his chin. Thane let himself be led, eyes wide and stuck on Baden’s gaze. Distantly, Baden was aware of the gentle thud of Thane’s mug being set down on the table before his own hand drifted to Baden’s hip. 

When Thane had first taken the wind element, it had turned his eyes a bright, unnatural blue. Like blooming spring flowers, rich as his peacock feather cloak. When Thane had parted with the emblem, the colour had gone with it, leaving the dark brown eyes that Baden was so familiar with. 

If he was honest, Baden was glad for it. The blue eyes felt like they’d belonged to a stranger, some almighty God that was watching Baden. Of course, he knew who those eyes belonged to, he still clung to Thane, because it was Thane. But it was also… more than Thane. Baden supposed that they had been more than themselves too, when they had the emblem. There was something greater, something ever more powerful, lingering just under their skin. Pressing against their bones, occupying his body in flesh and spirit. And when he spoke to Thane, he could hear the whispers of the wind element, breathing just under his words, whispering under his heartbeat, breathing down their necks when he held Thane in the night. The blue eyes that watched him were Thane’s but they were someone else’s too. 

But now, his eyes were brown again, that warm brown of years past. These were the eyes Baden had first seen, the eyes that had fought alongside him in the war, the eyes that had glinted with confidence before he rushed forth to meet Brutus on the battlefield. The eyes that seemed to break when Baden saw him next, lost and confused and bare of memories. The eyes that helped him remember again. The eyes that he slowly began to recognize and fall in love with all over. The eyes that smiled at him when they were done, shaken and exhausted and bruised, as Talene rose from the center of the altar, tired and heartbroken but alive, and the absence of the emblems within them was so quiet and loud at once. When they realized that it was done. 

The silence between them had lasted for minutes now, as they both silently watched one another, committing the other to memory as they had time and time before. Baden exhaled slowly, letting their thumb fall to Thane’s bottom lip. 

“I love you,” he whispered, with the reverence of a prayer. 

Thane grinned, the action almost entirely changing his face. He was always so serious, so firm and tense, even in retirement. It had faded with the years, of course, but still when Thane smiled, those last dregs of guilt disappeared for a moment, and he lit up. It drew a smile from Baden, too, and they snickered at the absurdity of it, of love and how it lingers. Thane laughed too, a low sound from deep in his throat, and he leaned forward to kiss Baden, drawing his hand up to wind in the back of their platinum hair. 

Baden slipped into the kiss and let it consume them, let it melt him away until he was nothing but his own lips against Thane’s, the strands of hair woven between Thane’s fingers, their hands gently cupping the lines of his face, nothing but the vines in his veins and the feeling of wind rushing into his lungs. 

Thane pulled back, slightly, enough that their noses still gently bumped together, that his lips still ghosted on Baden’s lips when he whispered “I love you too.” 

Baden cracked a smile before a bout of laughter bubbled up in his chest, and they wrapped their arms around Thane and fell back onto the couch, feeling him laugh as he buried his face into the crook of their neck, their legs tangling together. 

“I love your laugh,” Thane muttered, his breath warm against Baden’s skin. They snorted, knowing full well his laugh was loud, hiccuping and ugly, and that Thane wasn’t lying at all. 

They settled like that, letting their muscles relax and they felt Thane practically melt into them, the warm room coaxing them into a tired stupor. The firelight kept dancing across the floor, the flames soft and gentle. 

“Solise is waiting on an answer.” 

Baden sighed, deep, tired, and content, and drew a hand up the bumps of Thane’s spine as his eyes drifted to the window, watching the flurry of snowfall from the warmth of his husband’s embrace. 

“Solise can wait.”