and miles to go before I sleep;

Lugh

Over the next few days the House of Yarrow became to resemble the place it perhaps once was - before any witches, or heartsick knights. While the note of underlying sadness continued to linger, it was less present, less consuming, and slowly it was buried beneath lively conversations and the general chaos of days yet free of routine.

Between resting and tidying the place up both Lugh and Medea continued to exchange stories, gathered over their long lives and although it was never said out loud, it became clear that he was no Witch of Thorns at all. A mage and a knight, certainly, but it was probably for the best that Medea had made that mistake in the first place. Knowing the reputation of his and Mord's elusive neighbor, the payment for her help would've likely been far greater than a song.

During the second night after the sky had finally cleared up, Lugh had tried to figure out the house's location from the stars with Medea's help, but with no star charts to reference it remained an attempt at best. In the end the map he drew resembled more of a rough guideline (not much better than what the dubious man had handed to Andromeda in hopes of leading her to the Witch's door), but it would lead her north and hopefully keep her safe from the Witchfinders' most likely routes.

Medea didn't question how he came to hold this information and Lugh didn't care to disclose further - it could be assumed that it simply served his interests as well as a mage to remain aware of what the Order was up to these days.

On the morning of the third day Andromeda could find Lugh outside, merely enjoying the warming weather on the stone porch with a cup of tea with Llyr wandering somewhere on the premises. He had left another mug on the kitchen counter for her, alongside some simple breakfast.

The house wasn't quite a home yet, but neither was it a prison any longer, and the calm air about him said as much as he greeted her with a warm smile.

(356)

---

Medea

Medea stepped out onto the porch, stretching her arms up over her head with a satisfied sigh from another good night's sleep, heading straight for that cup of tea with honey already in it. She looked much refreshed compared to the bedraggled state she'd first appeared in, and she was wearing that lavender dress she finished altering, along with a knitted shawl of undyed, fluffy wool. Llyr was tucked against her side as per usual by this point, and he floated up to rest by her elbow on the porch as she brought the chipped mug up to her lips with a cheerful 'good morning' to greet Lugh with.

It was amazing how quick the little details of friendship accrued over the last three days. Lugh knew how much honey she liked by this point already without needing to ask, and in an unspoken way, she kept gravitating to the same things, the same spots. The purple chipped mug she'd picked on the first day was Her Mug, the spot on the rugs in front of the fire was Her Spot when it came time to exchange more stories, and Llyr had started the habit of resting in her room at night, welcome company after the fires had gone out and when neither of them really truly needed the sleep. She wasn't supposed to stay for long, but there was no end date to her stay, nor a rush to end the shared company on either side.

She liked the stories, liked giving Lugh the lyrics she'd written, liked writing down information about the actual Witch of Thorns (which made her turn red as an apple when she learned through context clues how mistaken she'd been), and liked standing outside with Lugh and pointing out Ivran constellations along with their stories (which didn't help him make her map in the least bit, but it was still a lovely way to spend time). The longer she stayed, the more there was a very subtle shift about her. Not that she was any less jovial, but the stress of being lost and alone fell away in bits and pieces till she really shone this morning when she smiled at Lugh. As in, actually glowing a little, if you looked close enough.

She started asking what they were going to tackle today, what rooms they'd explore and clean out. The front lawn that showed signs of melting snow was peppered with furniture that needed heavy dusting and airing out in the sun, along with things that really needed to be tossed when the opportunity came along. She'd asked here and there if he wanted company on a trip to town for some supplies, but didn't press when he shook his head and preferred to stay. He was waiting for something, and she could respect that.

In the middle of her bright questions and her first bites into the small breakfast he'd laid out for her, she was unaware of a growing sense of dread on the horizon, one that made Llyr rise into the air and stare at the crest of the hill. Like a dark stormcloud that grew, bringing a heavy pall to the air, Medea's cheerful chatter faded when she saw both Llyr and Lugh still.

The storm arrived atop the hill in the shape of Mordreaux - and he stared down at her with mounting hostility.

(565)

---

Lugh

His heart dropped.

For days Lugh had anticipated to see his companion, to have a chance to finally talk to Mordreaux properly, but these thoughts-

Carefully Lugh placed his mug down on the stone steps, his gaze transfixed on the familiar figure that now made his slow approach towards the house. He could sense the brewing storm within Mord's thoughts - had done so long before the man had even appeared into view - and with the wariness of a wounded animal he slowly rose, glancing at Andromeda from the corner of his eye as he did so. What warmness there had been in his demeanor had now disappeared beneath a mask of caution.

"Something must've happened," Lugh murmured to her, but also to himself as he stepped away from the porch to meet Mordreaux half-way. He'd need to get to the bottom of this foul mood before another misunderstanding could occur.

The horse following Mord and Gwynned caught his eye, as did the full cart it was pulling, but questions would have to wait, and with a guarded stare he stopped in his tracks, choosing to wait by the small stone bridge.

(191)

---

Mordreaux

Medea frowned when Lugh rose, and as Mordreaux came down the hill, her brows knit, and her head started to ache, which was alarming to her. She'd never been sick a day in her life, and she rubbed at her forehead with a stifled whimper the closer the dark knight on the hill came. It felt like her head was being ripped open, under pressure from his furious stare, and Llyr ushered her inside and shut the door behind them, knowing it wouldn't keep her safe for very long.

Lugh met Mord on the bridge, and it was clear in the light of morning that Mord was wounded, with his foot dragging slightly, his arm close to his chest, and an angry cut on his cheek that made his expression all the more ominous. When Medea was out of view, his attention rested solely on Lugh, and the information he'd stolen from Medea flashed too quickly for Lugh to read.

"Have fun with your little Irina-doppelganger while I was away?" Mord sneered, venom dripping.

(174)

---

Lugh

"What-" Lugh murmured, looking at him in bewilderment. He would focus on that? Keeping the confused frown off of his face, he gave Mord a quick look over, trying to purposefully peer into his mind to find the cause of these injuries, but the bristling thoughts were too restless, too erratic for him to navigate. Mord had made it all the way here on his own, but that notion did little to soothe the budding worry in Lugh's chest.

"You're hurt," He said in a low voice, ignoring both the question and the hostility that was driving it. "What happened to you?" He continued, and pulled back his thoughtless hands, having nearly touched Mord's arms.

(115)

---

Mordreaux

Immediately Mord bristled when Lugh came closer, ready to brush him aside should he have attempted sweetness. "Invincible Witchfinder," He bit off. "An inconvenience at best. Now step aside so I can rid the House of the imposter you let in." He made moves to sidestep Lugh and cross the bridge, his mood thundering. "She's been lying to you, taking advantage of you, and best of all, she'll be dead within the year." He cut a narrow look to Lugh. "You should've known better."

(84)

---

Lugh

Lugh stepped in front of him with an unreadable expression. "You are hurt," each repeated word bit back, quiet and stern, but there was no hiding the worry from his voice. "You-" He began, yet fell silent if only for a moment, taken aback by the abrupt comment about Andromeda's fate. There would be no talking with Mord right now, that much was clear from the venom in his voice, but neither was Lugh willing to argue with him - not with their last meeting in mind.

The wound on his lower lip had finally healed, having left behind only a red line, but he could swear he felt a faint sting at the sight of Mord's rising hurt.

"You're not making any sense." He claimed quietly, shoulders tense and eyes sharp as he remained still, towering over Mord even without intending to. "For Grace's sake, she's a guest," Lugh continued, torn between his worry for not only Mord, but for Andromeda's safety as well now. "Be that true or not, it doesn't matter, you will not do such a thing. She's done no harm."

I'm here now, he wanted to remind him, the need to apologize stuck in his throat. You are hurt, Lugh kept thinking, wanting to console Mordreaux but none of his words were coming out right.

None of this was right.

(225)

---

Mordreaux

"Defending her already," Mord hissed, lip curled when Lugh blocked the way. "Is three days all it takes to fall for her act?"

In a whirl, he used his good arm to grab at Lugh's shirt, twisting it as he leaned in close, and centuries of bitter grief twisted his whispered venom. "She's not Irina. No one can replace her, not with all the sickly sweet songs in the world. I won't stand by and let her trick you into caring, into hoping that this one will stay with us when she wouldn't. I'm not going to stand by and let your heart be broken again when she corrupts - not if, but when - and I will not watch you get hurt again when you inevitably try to put her down! I know you too bloody well, I've seen this too many times!"

His eyes narrowed. "I see who she is. She's killing herself in the only way she can, and I want none of it. Now step aside so I can get rid of her."

(175)

---

Lugh

He grunted at the rough yank, leaning a little forward as not to topple them both over. Whereas Mord's earlier comments about Andromeda had only deepened his worry, the hissed whispers about not only the death now, but inevitable corruption twisted that emotion into something much more complicated, much more fierce. "-Then let her." His retort came off much more harsher than he intended to. Of course there was no replacing Irina, he knew that just as well as Mord, he... "Just... Stop it. Stop with this," Lugh whispered back, breaking eye contact for a moment.

He glanced at the gnarly cut on Mord's cheek; these hurt thoughts might as well have been just another physical wound, so terrible they felt to listen to, and Lugh let out a wavering breath. He couldn't let them infect his mind too - they shouldn't fight, not now. "I won't repeat myself," Lugh warned him with that even voice of his. "She needed a place to stay, and I chose to let her in. There's nothing more to it. You don't have to do anything to her, she-" There was a tense pause and he met Mord's eyes again.

What the hell were they doing? They should be tending to his wounds.

"She was just about to leave."

(214)

---

Mordreaux

His brows drew together at Lugh's tense replies, and at his last words, he scoffed. "Not according to her. You should hear her. The marks she wants to make on our house, the gifts she wants to send even when she gets back to that ridiculous home of hers, to the point of trying to give you your arm back even if she'd die a little more - not that it would work. She has no plans on leaving you be, so I'll simply make her."

He cut eye contact and pushed past him with a heavy scowl, leaving his cart full of treasures behind with Gwynned. "I forgot how blind you are."

He limped his way to the front door, throwing it open on Llyr and Medea rushing to pack everything Lugh had wanted to send her off with. Both of them froze like a deer in headlights under the shadow he cast over them both.

Leave her alone, Llyr immediately tensed.

"Now why would I do that?" Mord raised a brow, leveling a cruel look down at her. "I have to greet our guest, now don't I?"

"Er..." Medea slowly rose to her feet, making a hesitant curtsy. "Mord, right? Heard a lot about you."

"I'm sure you have, Iphemedea Lyiade," Mord smiled coldly, taking a few steps inside. "Have fun seducing my partner with your charming little stories?"

She stilled with a horrified frown, holding up a hand the more he advanced. "Alright, uh, I'm going to stop you right there - I know you have issues with miscommunication but that's a little overboard -"

"My, my, what's the matter?" He harshly sneered. "Don't you adore villains? Or is it different when it's aimed at you?" He lifted his fingers of his good hand, and with a startled cry, Medea lifted into the air, bumping back into the far upper wall as he cornered her there.

Mordreaux, stop! Llyr yelled, following after with a weaker attempt to pull her down. But Mord ignored him, continuing his act instead.

"Listen! B-buddy, pal, I know you have problems, but maybe don't take them out on random strangers, h-huh?" Medea's voice broke in threads of fear, struggling to break his hold on her. "We can just talk about it-"

"Talk? Like you do with your lover? Oh, excuse me - he's not even that, now is he." He tilted his head with a cutting, false grin. "If we should talk of villainy, he should take center stage in my humble opinion. Antioch de la Voux, the man who has you on a leash so tightly it's a wonder you don't choke." He leaned in as her face paled. "Antioch this, Antioch that, that's all you think of! For all his cruelty and all he's taken away from you, you fail to see how pathetic he's made you. Do you think he'd love you if he knew what you're doing for him? Or would he cast you aside for the next bottle of immortality once you've ceased to be useful?"

"you don't....he's not -" She couldn't even speak, tears springing in her eyes as he voiced her worst fears.

"The fact that you think you have any ground to give relationship advice on is laughable. He teases you to the brink of madness so you'll do anything for him, and he won't miss you when you're gone."

'no,' was all she could muster as tears slipped down her cheeks.

STOP! Llyr bellowed, slamming his skull right into Mord's with such blinding force that his hold on Medea broke, and she collapsed to the floor in a stifled cry.

I have had enough of you! Llyr yelled, the force of his voice shaking the nearby glass as Mord curled over, holding a hand to his aching head. And to Lugh in the doorway: Both of you! I'm sick to death of your poisonous relationship making everyone around you miserable!

Medea's soft sobs as she curled against the wall served as the only accent he needed for his point.

I want to leave. He said, resolute as stone. With her.

(683)

---

Lugh

"... You can't." Lugh spoke as he entered the house, his voice as cold as ice, even if a little breathless from having rushed after Mord the moment the yelling had started. He looked over at sobbing Medea, aghast at horrible scene that had unraveled in what had seemed like a blink of an eye.

And over what?

"You know you can't, Llyr." Lugh said more quietly and turned to face Mordreaux, still on the floor. He had seen this before, this urgency to protect him with misdirected fury - Lugh swallowed and clenched his fists tight. The calm around him was all wrong, holding the eerie air of a storm about to break, but there was a crack in the mask, and with a deep, shuddering breath he knelt before his partner, only to pull him up to his feet by his elbow. Holding Mord flush against his chest Lugh whispered for only him to hear: "I didn't return for this." Yet, here Lugh was choosing him like he always had - always would. His voice trembled with the same gutted grief he had been left to sit with by none other than Mord himself in this rotten place, his bitter words now loud enough for others to hear as well: "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

He held him a little tighter.

"With all I've nothing but loved you, and yet you spit in my face. Calling me blind when you can't for one forsaken second just listen," the rising anger seeped into every word now, slowly burrowing the regret and any other tender feeling that was keeping it at bay as Medea continued to sob against the wall. "You don't want me to get hurt again? By her? You think I'm not hurting, right now?" Lugh growled against his dark locks.

No tears would roll though, his anger burned far too hot for that to happen. All he had wanted was to talk this out, help him, calm him.

They shouldn't fight.

(334)

---

Mordreaux

Mord was pulled into Lugh's embrace before he could protest or push away from it, and this close, Lugh could feel the storm inside of his chest. The struggle of the act he needed to put on, of making Irina cry for a purpose, and the painful wound of hearing Lugh say those words he'd wanted to hear so desperately a week ago, but couldn't bear to believe now. He winced at the pain of his wounded arm pressed against his chest in that tight hug, and he grimaced back in Lugh's ear, "You don't love me," followed by a lie: "but I don't care."

He wasn't going to lose him a third time to another monster aiming for Lugh's life - no matter how cruel he had to be, no matter how ill Lugh thought of him.

But before he could voice it aloud, Llyr interrupted, still as resolute as before. I can leave. With Andromeda's help.

Mord turned his cheek against Lugh's shoulder, eyes dark with turmoil. "What, with her star, you mean?"

Yes, Llyr replied. I'll cease being a rift between you, the nag that neither of you listen to, and I can live for myself.

Mord looked down at Medea, whose sobs had turned into sniffling sighs, and images of Medea's corruption flashed through his thoughts, hideous and tragic, wrought with screams and tar.  He sighed against Lugh's curling hair, and said, "Then do so."

If seeing how far her corruption went would make Lugh realize why he'd go to such lengths, then so be it. He would give up Llyr in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Lugh safe.

(273)

---

Lugh

The image horrified him, drowning out any notion of what really laid behind Mord's prompting.

Lugh pushed against the vile thought, feeling it twist his insides with that horrible, hopeless sight. Was a year all she really had left..? He breathed deep again, staying still with his face right next to Mord's for a few fleeting seconds, before breaking the embrace with his lips twisting into a pained grimace. If only Mordreaux had his magic to lean onto, that goddamn crutch of his - maybe then he'd cease with this insanity of 'protecting' him from unseen threats at the cost of the peace between the two of them. Lugh had never wanted this access to his mind, and all these revelations, these lies, these contradicting desires made his heart ache like they had countless times before.

Lugh could only commend Morgan on her ploy, how terrific of a job it had done with turning his words this meaningless over the ages after she had tricked him into betraying Mord all those centuries ago. How thoroughly it had wounded them both, and kept doing so even to this day with his partner now withdrawing into hatred and fear.

"Stop." He merely hissed at the man and turned to look away, his grieved attention turning to Llyr next and the familiar's ill-advised wish. "You too, or I will crack you in half." A lie on his part, but he could've fooled even himself with how sinister the shift in his tone was.

His thoughts kept returning to the thundering he had felt in Mord's chest, and Lugh steeled himself to make the familiar back off once and for all with this nonsense of coming back to life. "Enough talk about rifts and regrets, you are not at fault. Remember, I murdered your host, and would've done so again." His biting words mellowed into a bitter admission, white lies mixed in with a cruel truth none of them often brought up. The Llyr before them was a familiar, nothing more.

Shaking his head Lugh let both of them be as he finally walked over to Medea, offering her his hand without hesitation. Even with the storm having taken such a vicious hold of him, the look on his face was that of honest regret as he murmured to: "I'm sorry for causing this. Can you stand up?"

(387)

---

Medea

Medea didn't take his hand.

She'd flinched at his threat just as viscerally as Llyr had, and her tear-stained eyes were wide under her mess of curls, staring up at Lugh's gentleness with horror. One could barely consider it a reply when she mouthed the words, 'don't hurt him,' with barely a whisper to her name.

Slowly, she dismissed his hand, getting back up to her feet amidst a silent, watchful room, and she held her arms out for Llyr for the upteenth time since she'd been here. He sailed right to her embrace, tucked away from Lugh with the first sign of distrust she'd shown Lugh. With a shaky inhale, she asked Lugh softly, "...you don't know what he's been through, have you? ...all the things he forgave you for until now. The feelings he had to bury because he didn't have any other choice."

She passed him by in order to step in front of Mord, rubbing at her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Give him to me, and I'll go."

Mord's storm had calmed at the turn of events, and he smiled mirthlessly. "Have him. You can use the cellar if it pleases you."

She nodded tiredly, then said, "You're a really horrible person."
"I know."
"And an idiot. Who needs therapy."
"Mhm."
"And -"
"Yes yes, you've made your point." He murmured calmly. "Go on."

She stepped passed him too, gently letting Llyr go, so that he could float in the air. There was a question hovering about him, but he kept it quiet when she rolled up her sleeve and chose a bright star near her elbow, one she'd been saving for a particularly bad day. She covered it with her hand as Mord stepped in front of Lugh, watching the events unfold with his good hand outstretched to tell Lugh not to intervene. This would be letting Llyr go, letting that part of their past go.

The light from her star began to glow fiercely between her fingers, glowing with the light of a true star, and the room seemed to dim just to let it shine in her hand. It was breathtaking, twinkling so perfectly in her palm.

She took a deep breath in, steadying herself with a sniffle, and she looked up at Llyr with a soft, faint smile. "I hope this works."

Then she offered it up to him, and he sailed into it, his lights dimming as if he closed his eyes for this.

The star blinded the room in a brilliant flash, and when Mord and Lugh could see again, there was the faint glowing outline of a youth where Llyr had been before, filling in with starlight, floating in the middle of the room. Details came to light - his beautiful waves of curls the old king had fallen for centuries ago, the slender shape of his hands and limbs, the angelic lashes that framed the sweet turn of his cheek. He was painfully beautiful to look at, and Medea modestly looked away, taking her shawl off and wrapping it around his bare waist as he floated down like a feather into her arms.

Llyr leaned his cheek against her shoulder, sighing for the first time with lungs that could breathe. And when he opened his eyes, they shone like candlelight, a gentle gold.

"....Andromeda?" Even his voice was lovely, and he reached for her, devouring every detail of truly being alive.

She smiled weakly in return, having grown pale in the exchange. She couldn't speak, and her shoulders heaved as she covered her mouth, scrambling away from him to keep the cost of his revival away from him. Mord oh so kindly flicked his fingers to throw the cellar doors open across the room, and she didn't even make it before falling to her knees, coughing up pitch black tar in a horrible retching sound.

"Andromeda!" Llyr cried, trying to get to his fledgling feet to get to her. She shook her head in gasps and heaves, and already something was horribly wrong with her. Her torso was sinking in, inhumanely hollow, and the color was leeching from her, her veins showing black, her eyes lightless, the stars on her skin stifled under the pall of corruption.

She crawled her way to the cellar, and the last glimpse before she shut the doors behind her was the way her skin turned pitch black, turning into tar itself that left its mark on the door. She was half skeletal before she even made it there. The only bit of mercy Mord gave her was sealing the doors with a deafening spell so she could keep her screams to herself.

(781)

---

Lugh

Lugh couldn't look away, seized by horror so violent it left him all but stunned as the familiar youth formed into being before their very eyes. This shouldn't be happening.

It couldn't be happening.

Llyr was dead. He... This thing was nothing more than a conjured spirit, a pale imitation of the prince Lugh's hand had been guided to hate, to fear, and eventually, to kill - even if indirectly. That much he had learned about the Pact from Mord's memories, about the wicked ritual that had taken place after they had left each other beaten and bloody in a field of ash.

And yet, here Llyr was, looking not a day older as he had on that tragic eve when the King had sentenced him to death for treason.

"No." Lugh whispered, voice flat from shock, and he tore his gaze away from the revived prince to look at Andromeda and the heartbreaking sight he had wanted to prevent with his icy words. Rendered to a living nightmare, she crawled behind the door, and Lugh felt his stomach turn as the lock clicked shut. He didn't need to imagine what was happening to her in the dark. The memories Mord had stolen from her, stitched together from countless moments of pain so excruciating it could tear one's soul apart, burned bright in Lugh's mind, leaving him reeling.

"How could you-"

He turned to face Mord, staring him down as a wave of painful emotions crashed over him; the guilt from seeing Medea recoil in fear; the unknown terror of what she had meant when speaking about Llyr and the familiar's feelings; the sheer horror of his sudden revival. The look on Lugh's face was hurt, so indescribably fearful, and it took all his strength to not back away from Mord, from Llyr - from all of them - as the wounds that had never scarred in the first place were being ripped open all at once.

"Why?" He spoke again, a note of brutal heartache slipping into his voice as his anger faltered. How was this letting go of Llyr? How was this... mockery of Llyr being brought back to life supposed to heal them in any meaningful way, if the price was pushing just another soul towards their untimely death? Andromeda wanted to live, he had seen it her eyes. "You... You knew she would do it, didn't you, so why-?

(400)

---

Llyr

Mord stood still, returning Lugh's look of horror with silence, his chest twisting painfully to see him this way. His voice was painfully gentle when he said, "She was always going to do this. That's who she is. A tragedy waiting to happen. Better this happen as soon as possible rather than a year from now when you - when we all would've come to love her. We're each too broken to go through this again."

He looked away, brow furrowed as he looked to the cellar doors. "Better you hate me now than have your heart broken next year."

Llyr managed to get to his feet as he spoke, and Mord frowned, turning back to hear two voices of hatred-? before Llyr's fist slammed into his cheek, sending him straight to the floor.

"You cruel bastard!" Llyr choked, tears streaming down his face. "Why do you have to ruin everything you touch? I was happy for once in my life! I was loved, I was listened to, and you took that away like you've taken everything else!"

Mord coughed specks of blood onto the floor behind the curtain of his hair, and with a sob of furious grief, Llyr moved to hit him again, unsteady on his fawn-like legs.

(209)

---

Lugh

Before that punch could land though, Lugh swiftly stepped in and caught Llyr's arm with a nigh ferocious grab. Holding him still by his delicate wrists, he brought Llyr to heel as gently as he could manage, lowering himself on the floor alongside the prince until he was leaning over Mordreaux, protecting him from further harm even now. Lugh leveled Llyr a heavy look but it wasn't a warning this time, no. It was much closer to the look of anguish he had met Llyr with the last time they both had seen Mordreaux, just as tormented and hollow as it had been that night until he had wrapped his arms around the skull.

"Enough-!" He snapped in a strained voice, whispering then over Llyr's shuddering sobs, "She will live." His whole demeanor was forcibly calm, torn between his sorrow and the conflicted feelings Mord's sudden confession had brought forth. Lugh's grip around Llyr's wrists trembled slightly, just enough for the youth to notice. "Llyr, I told you to stop." It was no accusation - just weary, cold words born from the grief they all shared.

All this needless pain was already breaking his heart.

Without another word he let go of Llyr. Staring back at those golden eyes felt wrong, harrowing in a way he couldn't describe, yet Lugh remained between his terrible love and the grieving prince. If Llyr wished to hit anyone again, it would have to be him.

(241)

---

Llyr

"Don't touch me," Llyr hissed back, pulling away once Lugh let go. "What authority do you have? To give me orders, threaten me, ignore me, berate me, treat me as less than a person, kill me - I have never been a person to you, have I?"

Llyr leaned back, breath uneven as he rubbed at his face, crying. "How many villages and kingdoms have you left in ruins because you couldn't listen? How often have I begged you both to stop?" He looked at Lugh bitterly. "How does it feel to have your words fall on deaf ears? The look on your face is what you've subjected me to for all my life."

His voice became quieter, sweeter, different from the familiar's rage. "What have I done to you to deserve this fate?"

As he spoke, Mord slowly rose to his knees, rubbing the blood from his lips with a sigh. Tiredly, he looked at Llyr and said, "All of that aside, you can leave now, Llyr. You don't have to suffer with us any longer." His mouth drew into a line. "And if anyone can stop her from her slow suicide, it'd be you."

Llyr's lips twisted bitterly. "Don't pretend you did this for me, Mordreaux. You didn't do this to help."

"No." A faint huff. "I don't want anything to do with her tragedy. But at least you can act if you want to. Give her more of a chance than she'd have otherwise."

The three were silent, and Mord closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. For this. For her."

(261)

---

Lugh

Lugh froze momentarily, mortified by the two voices that had begun to speak with Llyr's mouth. The thought of the false Llyr having taken the prince's shape had been terrifying in its own right, but hearing that familiar note enter his melodic voice, the unmistakable fall and rise of his words? Lugh couldn't bear to look at him any longer, at that tear-stained face, knowing that somewhere in there was the same man who had paid the ultimate price for his selfishness. Had to be, somehow.

Slowly, his attention drifted to Mord and the quiet apology instead, mulling over his every word. Lugh stayed silent for another moment, staring at the fresh blood on his partner's face, making once more note of the apparent injuries he had arrived with, as well as his aching thoughts.

"... Next time try starting with that." The soft murmur wavered, turning bitter towards the end as he rose to his feet, grief coiling itself tight around his heart. He was sorry too, more than than any of them would ever know.

It hadn't always been like this, their love. This precious bond, that he would destroy, kill, and maim for if it meant removing Mord's hurt for good - that horrible distrust which made him all but deaf and blind now to what they once had.

And there was no one else Lugh could blame for it but himself. He glanced at the tar stain in front of the cellar doors, feeling tears burn his eyes - at least there was little else left Mordreaux could do to hurt him more than he already had since their reunion.

"Llyr-" He bit down, and merely hummed over his shoulder. "I'm sorry for everything."

And as he turned to leave the den, a tired plea and offer to Mord alone: "I'll be outside if you wish to talk."

(309)