It’s a strange thing, being awake before Eros. Eros was the light sleeper, the one who usually woke him up (or at least, tried) with soft kisses and promises of a good day. Now though it’s Aion who stirs easily, happily awake before the sun and anxious to start the day.
He has an idea then, and he leans down to press his lips to Eros’ back. He’s still amazed at how warm he is: Aion had hardly noticed the way his own body temperature continued to drop, how cool he now was to the touch. It was an effect of his newfound magic, he supposed; but he hadn’t stopped to consider what his beloved would think of it.
The glow on the horizon continues to grow, bathing the lovers in soft, rose-colored light. The cooing of an owl gives way to the chirping of blue jays and cardinals and tree sparrows. It’s intermittent at first, almost shy; but gradually the trills grow louder and more numerous, until the very air seems to come to life with the birds’ music. Aion could almost sing along with them for how happy and content he is.
He presses on as the sun continues to rise, trailing his lips first to Eros’ shoulder, then up along the ridge of his neck. Here he pauses at the blue ink dyed into his mate’s crest, his kisses turning to nuzzles.
“Frø-ya,” he almost whines, his head falling heavily over the other man’s back. Of all days, of course it would be today that Eros would sleep in.
He stretches beside him, brushing one wing along his sleeping lover’s side. That was another thing that would take getting accustomed to: Aion hadn’t had wings since before he’d met Eros. It was like relearning how to use them, not that he minded.
He closes his eyes with a sigh, feeling particularly dramatic.
Today, he had determined, was going to be wonderful.
The ocean breathes beside him; ebbing and rising in tune with his own rhythmic in and out. Lazy, cool waves spill onto the shore and nip at his hooves as a gentle breeze rustles the palm above him. It’s neither hot nor cold, the heat of the scarlet sun offset by a cool lavender sky—it makes for perfect, warm evening air. At his side is his mate, and in his heart, love; all is right within the world.
He can feel Aion nose at his back and hear a seagull squawking in the distance. Eros can’t see the setting sun, but its fading warmth slowly slips from him and he knows it’s nearing dusk. Distantly, he can hear his mate mumble his name. “Mmmmm,” he answers, although he can’t quite place what exactly it is that his beloved had said. Good night, maybe? Slowly, he opens his eyes to ask.
But he isn’t at the beach—the seagull is a blue jay chirping from their windowsill at the Capitol, and the sloshing ocean is the sound of the river outside. In fact, it isn’t evening at all. Instead, the sun had just begun to rise; golden morning light streams into their room and glimmers as it passes through Aion’s wings. Eros shivers at the touch of his mate’s newly-acquired feathers against his flank. “Good morning, kjekk.”
What his dream hadn’t fabricated is Aion. Aion, who is still at his side, who nuzzles close up against him. Eros returns his kisses with fervor; his heart is still full of love. And all is still right with the world, for what matters is not where they are, but simply that they are together. @aion
Aion’s eyes open in an instant at the sound, the blue shining brightly against his dark face. There’s a twinkle in those eyes today, like the stallion is holding onto a secret that he can hardly contain.
Only a little longer though, and it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.
”Finally,” he says, nipping his mate’s shoulder playfully. ”Good morning, mon cher.”
For a moment he lets himself enjoy his sweet touches and kisses, basking in the warm sun that illuminates them through the open window. Every caress is a delight, every press of their lips the most potent of drugs that leaves him hungry for more.
But abruptly, he pulls away, afraid he might never stop if he sits here any longer.
”Let’s go,” he says, climbing to his feet. ”I have something I want to show you.”
He’s already striding to the door but he stops there and turns around, waiting. Eros is still on the bed, his pale skin bright against the dark satin pillows. The sunlight streaming into their room catches him in its grasp, illuminating him and forming a hazy glow that clings to his body like a second skin. A smile slips onto Aion's face, his eyes wandering across his curves without shame.
If he could capture this moment forever, branding it into his mind so that he could return to it whenever he wanted, he would in a heartbeat.
You can return here later, his mind whispers, reminding him where he needs to go, what he needs to do. There will be plenty of time later.
So he promises himself, later.
And when Eros isn't looking, he picks up the engraved ring and tucks it away for safekeeping.
In his half-asleep reverie, Eros wonders if the world ever pieces together a day for someone; if it ever goes out of its way to draw up something uniquely perfect for them, and them alone. If it does, he thinks, today might be one of those days. He’s certain the birds outside must be chirping a love song for his and Aion’s ears only. That the sun had risen at just the perfect angle to illuminate their room in a warm, golden glow. If it is their day, he doesn’t want it to ever end.
So he blinks against the beaming light of morning, stuffs his head into Aion’s neck, and wills the passage of time away. “Just a few more minutes?,” he mumbles. (After all, they have many nights yet before they’ve even begun to catch up on all the ones they missed together.) Aion indulges him for a brief moment, with kisses and nuzzles, but it feels like no time at all when he withdraws to the door and leaves Eros exposed to the harsh glare of the sun. “Let’s go,” he says.
And Eros almost interrupts, ready to argue they have nowhere to be, that they should enjoy this time while they have it. But “I have something I want to show you,” Aion continues, and with the smile on his lips and twinkle in his eyes, Eros is powerless to deny him anything. He lets himself bask for a moment—not in the sunlight, but under Aion’s keen gaze; he’d ask if he sees something he likes, but he doesn’t need to to know his answer. Of course he does.
Eros allows himself one last languid stretch before rising from the bed to meet his mate at the door. “Where are we going?” @aion
i see you in waking
a ghost in the window shade
my lover, the form you take
by my side
Standing in the doorway, watching as the sun danced along Eros’ skin and clung to each of his curves, Aion can hardly remember their time spent apart. It had only been a few months ago, but since then he had pushed it far, far out of mind.
It was just him and Eros, together, as it should always be.
As it always will be, he reminded himself, feeling the weight of the ring in his grasp. A smile played at the corners of his lips, blue eyes twinkling with the joy of holding onto a secret.
Eros continues to bask for a few minutes longer - and although Aion is anxious to start their day, he can’t complain. He would like to stay in this moment forever, would like to repeat this moment every morning for the rest of their lives. But it, too, comes to an end when Eros finally rises and joins him at the door - but only after one final show of stretching.
“Where are we going,” he asks, and Aion’s smile only stretches wider, like a kid struggling to hold onto his secret. He doesn’t answer right away, instead he just presses their lips together for one slow, languid kiss, relishing in his closeness and touch.
“Somewhere special,” he says with a wink, pulling Eros along with him out the door.
Everything about the day feels lighter and brighter than any other day; it’s as if the birds are singing a song just for them, and the sun is a spotlight upon their backs. It’s their day, and there’s not a thing in the world that could convince him otherwise.
His heart is a wild thing inside of his chest, banging against his ribs like an animal trying to claw its way free. His legs feel jittery, as if he’s skipping instead of walking, and its all he can do to keep himself from rushing Eros along. He has to remind himself to keep his pace smooth, to enjoy this walk with his beloved. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” he comments, and he breathes deeply with an exaggerated sigh.
“Mornings like this are my favorite.” There was hardly anyone else to be found out and about, a peaceful quiet settling over the courtyard. The morning air still had a crisp edge to it that refreshed and cleansed his senses, so every sound, every scent, every sight was bright and new and vibrant.
But the Court wasn’t where Aion wanted to be; he directed them westward, so that a short walk through a flower-covered meadow brought them to the sandy shoreline. As the chirping of birds was swallowed by the crashing of waves and the grass turned to soft sand, he finally stopped.
“Frøya,” he started, with all the tenderness in the world on display in his eyes and in his tone. His smile was small now, almost shy - but he gestures towards the beach, pressing his shoulder into his and directing him alongside the sandy strip.
As Aion steers them through the Capitol in the dim morning light, Eros can’t help but feel like a child sneaking around the house before their parents awoke. And, like a child tiptoeing out, Eros desperately hopes they won’t run into anyone on their way—lest the sanctity of this moment of theirs alone together be broken. Whether it be the early hour, or pure luck, his wish is granted; they slip from the Court unseen, pressed together at the shoulder and hip as if they might lose each other again in their travels if not in constant contact.
When they reach the vibrant meadow outside the Court, Aion slows to a leisurely amble, and Eros matches. The long grasses tickle his knees and the fragrance of bloomed flowers fills his nose. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Eros hums his agreement. Birds fly overhead, swooping in lazy circles as if painting script in the sky. They exude joy, and freedom, and Eros smiles in understanding of their carefree gaiety; he, too, revels in the unworried enjoyment of a nice day. “Mornings with you are my favorite.”
Soon they reach the edge of the meadow—too soon, Eros finds himself thinking. But he chances a look at his partner, and Aion’s uncontainable smile assures him that the ecstasy of today is only just beginning. As they step onto the warm sand, the water lapping at their hooves, Eros remembers his dream—the cool ocean, the sunset, the seagulls. What does today have in store for me? Aion turns to him, then, and Eros wonders if he had been dreaming at all. Or if, somehow, he had seen a glimpse of what is in store. @aion
i see you in waking
a ghost in the window shade
my lover, the form you take
by my side
The sunlight reflecting off the ocean, the seashells speckling the beach with color, the clear blue of the sky overhead - all of it paled in comparison to the two horses walking along the water. They had eyes only for each other; Aion couldn’t look away.
Nor did he want to.
He could stare into Eros’ eyes all day and find himself content.
More and more often, he found himself wondering how he had made it so far without the other man at his side. Those years were a blur, lacking vibrancy or definition. It was as if nothing had mattered, at least not truly. Not until he had met Eros did his life truly begin. Eros had taken a piece of his soul with a smile, but he had filled that hole with something greater.
Today, Aion doesn’t care about the rest of the world. The kings and queens could continue their games, the gods could come and go, the continent itself could split in half and still, only one thing would matter. As long as Aion and Eros were together, as long as his heart never had to break with the searing pain of loss again, as long as they never had to say goodbye - that would be enough for him.
Each step takes them farther from the still-sleeping Court, and his steps become gradually lighter. He never had been one for close quarters or crowds; even the silent Delumine could quickly become claustrophobic. It was why he led Eros away from the city, away from the people and their prying eyes. Today, he wanted it to just be the two of them - the way it always should have been.
“I couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend my morning,” he begins, “or my life.”
His smile is a nervous one, but a happy one. Aion leans in close, so that their bodies are pressed together and they lean into one another as they walk. His touch is soft and light as he presses a kiss to Eros’ brow. The sunlight dances along their spines, warming them and encasing them in a soft, golden glow, a world all their own.
“I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to see it, but now that I have…” his voice trails off, and it’s only now that he finally stops. The waves push and pull at their ankles, their touch ever present, ever moving, as if they too are encouraging him to continue. He takes a step back, missing the touch of Eros’ skin but making up for it by meeting his gaze, ice and sunlight locking together.
“Froya,” he says, and he can’t stop the smile that lights up his face when he addresses his beloved. “I can’t imagine life without you. I can’t remember what it was like to live without being with you, but I know I never want to go back to living like that. I want to be with you, forever.”
He can already guess at what he might say - Eros had always been the optimist of the pair, had always promised him they would be together forever.
But finally, Aion wanted more than to just say it; he wanted to prove it in every way available to him.
And doing so started with —
“Will you marry me?”
He doesn’t want to wait for a reply; waiting is agony when all he wants is to draw Eros in close and never let go again.
But his eyes are full of love, and his heart is singing so loudly in his ears he’s sure Eros could hear it. And for the first time in his life, he feels completely sure of his decision, of the future he wants.
The sky is painted in pastels, soft and delicate as a Monet. Cooler colors, by now, but the warmth blooming in Eros’ chest as he holds the gaze of his beloved pays the breeze no mind. Damp sand clumps at his hooves as they drift down the shoreline, peeling the gold paint off in flakes with each step. It doesn’t matter to him, though, not now.
Nothing matters, save the smile on his mate’s face; the smile that makes even a profile carved of marble seem cotton-soft. If someone had shown Eros a picture of Aion now when they had first met, he isn’t sure he’d recognize him. Then again, he isn’t sure he’d recognize himself, either.
When they had first met he’d been acquiescent, embarrassed of how his life had turned out yet unwilling to risk his fragile security to change it. After all I’ve tried, he’d thought, maybe there isn’t anything I can do to find myself something happy. He’d settled for lonely, settled for shy. In Aion, however, he’d seen something worth chancing his comfort for. And when he did give it up, he gained greater things: confidence, optimism, and love.
Once he’d found them, he never wanted to lose them again, which meant never losing the person that had helped him to see they had been inside him all along. So he’d begged Aion to promise him he’d never leave—that they’d be together until the end of time—however unfair it might’ve been to ask of him, then. Still, Aion had drowned Eros’ doubts and fears in reassurance and love. Over the months and years, Eros had finally come to believe he’d never lose him.
But he did. It feels now as if it had been in the blink of an eye—a crack of thunder, a flash of lightning, and he’d disappeared. For a year—a whole year—he’d felt the searing sting of grief in his deep open wound. Even once they had found one another it had taken months for it to heal; months of waking in the middle of the night out of breath and clammy with worry only to feel his mate was still at his side.
It’s easier, now, with the sun on their backs and the expansive ocean beside them, to cast aside that worry. To believe, earnestly, that they will be together forever. “We will be.” It isn’t hope underscoring his voice and smile when he echoes Aion’s declaration, it’s conviction. “Of that I have no question.”
“I wonder sometimes if we were always destined for each other—if you were made with the idea of me already written into your story. Or maybe I’ve just never had good enough luck to believe meeting someone like you was pure chance. Either way, I’m grateful to have found you and been found by you.”
A glass smile, delicate and reflective, lifts his face when Aion asks.
“Will you marry me?”
He’s positive there had never been any doubt of what his response might be, but there’s a tangible line separating the rehearsed fantasies in all their iterations and the reality of searching for a studied answer during one of the most important moments of his life. It’s waking up late for an event, forgetting your lines in the play—something you’d had all thought out but slips away at the last moment.
“Yes—yes, of course I will,” he sputters, breathless with joy and excitement. Eyes and voice wet, Eros surges forward to kiss him. “I’ve never wanted anything else.” @aion
i see you in waking
a ghost in the window shade
my lover, the form you take
by my side
”Yes.”
Nothing else mattered outside of that one word, and all that it implied. Yes, Eros loved him. Yes, Eros was promising to be his. Yes, their lives belonged to each other now, two halves of one inseparable whole.
Wedding bells were already ringing in his ears; the birds are singing and the sun is shining for them and them alone. Their love is a promise, the sweetest promise he’ll ever know. The only promise he wants to know, at least for now.
He lifts his eyes to Eros, and the gentle morning sun catches the planes of his face. It lights him up like a glass holding a flame, each edge sharp and eager, each breath hungry, each look feeding that hunger. He captures the light and traps it inside of himself, lets it shine out through his eyes and his smile. Lets it shine for Eros.
For a moment he can’t speak, the words are stuck in his throat, clinging to his tongue.
“Nor have i,” he breathes at last. “I just want you.”
He always had, from the very beginning. Now he wonders how he hadn’t realized it at the time, wonders how he had managed to push him away for so long. Never again, he promises now, to both himself and to his beloved. They never had to be apart again - the past was where it belonged. All that was left before them was a future in which they were together, a future they could carve out for themselves.
He wraps himself around Eros when they embrace, wings and all. His kiss is electric, and Aion never wants it to end.
“I believe we have a wedding to plan,” he says when they finally pull apart, eyes shining. But the sun is still shining and the birds are still singing, and the waves are beckoning to them. So Aion turns, a sly smile hiding at the corners of his eyes.
“Come on - we have the whole day to ourselves.”
Without looking back to see if Eros will follow - he already knows he will - Aion takes off in a gallop for the water. And as he flares his wings out, sunlight dancing along every feather, he feels utterly content.
@eros
and then they run into the proverbial sunset together <3
walk. "talk."
The sun catches on the water, sparkling and bright and blinding, but nothing can compare to the radiance of Aion’s smile when he tells Eros that he is all he wants. He feels as though he could sprout wings of his own. Aion doesn’t need anyone else: no one smarter, prettier, kinder—doesn’t even want them. Just me, he thinks, with a dreamy smile.
He’s still smiling when they kiss, and still smiling after. He can’t remember ever being this happy, this carefree and at peace with his life. He doesn’t want it to stop. Something deep in his chest tells him it never will.
“Shouldn’t we celebrate first?,” he returns with a wink and giggle. “We just got engaged, after all.”
But Aion takes off down the shore and into the ocean, sending a spray of wet sand across Eros’ white coat. If a game of tag is what he wants, a game of tag is what he’ll get, Eros decides, chasing him into the shallow water with a splash aimed to hit.
And so they spend the day—playing in the waves, lounging on the sand. The world, the Gods, Aion—no one could have ever planned a day more perfect. @aion
