Wrote this after the pain that was Empires season 1 finale and went "fuck this. they're happy and in love AND NOT DEAD"
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The world is ending.
You can feel it, cracking under your feet. The water from your beloved swamp all drained, your citizens all drowned. Something clogged your throat, you can't speak, you can't breathe, your gills flapping almost hysterically, searching for the water that wasn't there. Your hands tremble as you push yourself up the gravel and sand dunes, where the water once was, where the water was supposed to be.
The world is ending.
You've seen other worlds end. Of course you do, immortality has its downsides. You've seen the horror, the desperation, the mounting dread of what's to come. It will never fail to wrench your heart and haunt your dreams.
The world is ending
And it's your fault. Of course it is. Harbinger of Doom, Omen of Death, that's you. That's your name, your title, the heavy weight you are destined to bear in any life. You are the canary in the coal mine, and it is time for you to sing.
You stumble away from the ruins of your once empire, what little was left of your belongings hung over your shoulder, a pack of wolves and a cat by your side as you make your way through the wilderness.
You roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the aching feeling of emptiness. Death's not hovering over you, that usually means the death of someone else. Shaking your head, you continue to trudge through the burning forest, the flames licking your skin, the taste of soot and coal harsh on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to care.
You let your mind wander, letting it go to places your aching body cannot. You thought of your sister in this life, with the ocean drained, will she lose herself again? Will she forget again? You know you couldn't. You know you're cursed to remember everything.
And what of your brother-in-law? The stubborn man still clinging on to denial, even as the world around him crumbles and is set ablaze. Oh, to be blessed by ignorance like him, you wonder how that would feel. Living everyday without a care for tomorrow, because of course there will be a tomorrow. Of course everything's fine. Of course everything is the way it should be. It must have been wonderful.
And... you think of him. Despite your best efforts, you think of him. You feel a slight twinge in your heart, more painful than the cuts and bruises in your arms. You think of him. You think of his smile, his beautiful eyes, his soft laugh. He doesn't love you, not yet, not in this life anyways.
There's a ripple in the stale air, the threads of reality parting away to reveal Death themself. You watch as they appear in front of you, a rare time when they actually bothered to have a proper form in the mortal plane. The form they chose was regal as ever, lavender robes wrapped around their frame, layered like petals of a peony, black wings folded neatly behind them. Hourglasses hang from their hips, softly tinkling with their every move. They smile down at you, an unusual sadness in their eyes.
"Hi, canary," they tease, even though their smile didn't reach their eyes.
"Lily," you nod in greeting, sitting down on a nearby log. "Are you okay?"
"Never better," is their response, you both know it was a lie.
They move to sit next to you, laying their head down on your shoulder. You suppress a shiver. You sit in silence as the world tears itself apart, as everything you have known in this life crumbles before your eyes. You sit in silent understanding, two beings as old as time, forced to watch a world they love wilt away.
They break the silence, impatient like always.
"He's gone," they whisper like if they say it louder the world would crumble faster than it already is. You purse your lips, those two words like a dagger straight to your heart. There was no need to utter his name, you both know who he is, you both know what he means to you. They look at you, gentleness in their eyes.
"And he called for you," they continued, laughing humorlessly at the blood red sky. "He called for you before he went. Your name was the last thing that left his lips. Your smile was the last thought on his mind as his candle flickers to embers."
You feel your heart skip, yet you simply laugh, bitter and harsh.
"No need to lie for my sake, lily," you hum sadly. "He doesn't love me."
It stings to say those words, but then again, the truth usually does.
They frown. "Bullshit."
"It's true!" you protest weakly, "He doesn't love me! Maybe he could've, but he never got to, and now he never will. We didn't have enough time."
Time. What a weird concept. You have all the time in the world—immortality does that to a person—and yet you chase for more constantly. Not enough, never enough. The universe is cruel, always has been, always will be. You're always racing against the clock, always reaching out for more, because please let this be enough, please let me be with him, please let me protect him.
They shake their head, a familiar look etched on their face. That look of disbelief and disappointment when you do or say something stupid.
They stretched their hands out, calling to their magic, light swirls on their palms, taking the form of a sword. It has a golden hilt, symbols carved on its blade. You can recognize it anywhere. The Rune Blade.
"I take it you're familiar with this thing?" they say, balancing the sword on their palm, testing its weight.
"Of course," you reply, taking the sword from them. "I helped make it, remember?"
The dwarves were kind and talented people, it had been your idea to make a sword that could sever someone's soul and put them in an afterlife of the wielder's choosing. It was a weird idea, they had told you so a couple of centuries ago, but you do have a record of not-so-good ideas.
"He used it to send himself to a happy afterlife. A life without sorrow, without grief, without the pain he had to endure in this one," they explain, voice almost reverent, soft and mourning. "The perfect life he never had."
"And..." you prompt, almost breathless, your nerves jittering in anticipation.
They smile at you, lacking its usual snark, lacking the confidence and self-assuredness you have come to associate with them. It was a soft smile, melancholic even, gentle and comforting. It looked wrong on them, but at the same time so right.
"Let me show you..." they whisper, gathering their magic again, tendrils of fabric-like sparks gathering in front of them. You know this spell, they've used it so many times in the past whenever they show you stuff that happened in their domain or some shenanigans with the other deities.
(You'll never forget the time they showed you Aeor being chased by an angry Overgrown while Exor laughs in the background. But that was during the better times, the happier times. Before everything went so wrong.)
But now, they're showing you a different scene. It was him. It was him wandering around Rivendell, confused. But it was different. Rivendell– this Rivendell was untouched and thriving, none of the towering ice spikes and red corruption, just... Rivendell. Beautiful, majestic, and whole. The tears gather in your eyes.
Xornoth was there too–no, not Xornoth, that isn't their name, it never was–Connor was there. Two souls, two brothers, reunited again. After so much pain, after so much destruction, together again.
Tears ran down your soot-stained cheeks, you made no move to wipe them off. A melancholic smile finds its way to your lips. He's happy. Finally, he's happy and safe and content. He's not endangered anymore. He's not alone anymore. He's happy, that's enough, even if he isn't with you.
There was something else though, or should you say someone else, because another voice called for him and your mouth went slack in shock and awe of what you're seeing.
That's your voice. That's your body speaking to him like an exasperated lover. That's your banner hanging right next to his. That's you. You are in his perfect life, in his ideal life.
As his husband.
"He loves me," you choke out the sudden realization, vision blurry with tears, "He loves me."
"I told you, you stubborn little shit," they say, rolling their eyes fondly. There's that snark you're missing from them, you can't help but smile.
You look down at the blade resting heavily on your hands, still stained with blood. His blood. You've outlived him in this life. You wonder how he felt, was he scared? Nervous? You wish you could've been there.
But there is a way you could be there for him right now.
"Lily?" you start, voice shaky as you take in the weight of your choice. "Can you do me a favor?"
They look at your outstretched hand, where the Rune Blade lay balanced. They gasp softly, eyes meeting yours. They held your gaze, a silent understanding from two beings as old as time. They swallow, smiling sadly at you.
"Anything, canary, anything," they whisper, tears in their eyes as they take the sword and aim it at your chest.
You feel the tip of the metal pressed against the ragged fabric you wore. You mouth a 'Be well' to them, smiling one last time before closing your eyes.
His name was the last thing that left your lips. His smile was the last thought on your mind.
He loves me.
————
"I guess happy endings do exist," you whisper into the cold winds, weary shoulders finally relaxing.
"Of course they do!" a voice calls from behind you, you whip around in shock.
He is there, looking exactly like he did when you last saw him at spawn, hands calloused and cheeks stained with soot, looking exactly like the real Jimmy, not the one in your make believe afterlife. This Jimmy was the one you lost, the one you loved, the one that doesn't love you back.
"Why are you- How are you here–" you stutter, taking several steps back. You wonder how could the universe do something so kind yet so cruel at the same time.
He smiles at you, taking your hands in his and pulling you inside. You let your feet tumble after him, your face slack with shock.
"Well... I have... friends in high places," he says simply, reaching up to wipe a tear that rolled down your cheeks.
You lean in to the touch, a quiet whimper escaping your lips. His expression softens, one hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you close. You let your forehead rest against his, closing your eyes.
This isn't real. This can't be real. The universe is playing its cruel tricks. Because Jimmy, your Jimmy—not the fake one, not the one who was built to love you—is holding you, whispering soft reassurances in your ears. You keep your eyes shut, afraid that if you open them, he will fade away.
"Petal," he calls, a certain tenderness in his voice that makes you want to crumble. "Look at me..."
"You're not real," you blurt out, eyes screwed shut. He softly gasps, you could almost see the frown on his face.
"Why is that?" he asks, almost cautiously.
"Because you don't love me. The real you doesn't love me," you state simply.
"Oh, Scott..." he says, barely above a whisper. "Of course I love you. It's my fault you haven't known all this time."
Your eyes fly open at that, widening in shock. You search his face for any sign of insincerity, even though you already know there is none. He still looks the same, like the Jimmy you lost. He's smiling sadly at you, the hand on your hips rubbing soothing circles. It's still too good to be true.
But if this is, in fact, a lie. If this is just the universe playing tricks. You don't think you would mind.
His gaze fell on your lips, before looking up to your eyes again. Your breath caught in your throat.
"Can I–" he starts and you quickly cut him off.
"Please."
He leans down and you meet him halfway.
His lips are soft against yours, his hand on your hips slowly making its way between your wings while the other holds your face oh so gently. Your hand comes up to tangle your fingers into his hair, gripping the soft locks tightly.
You cannot stop the tears that run down your cheeks. He's here. Warm, solid, and real. Not just a figment of your imagination. Not just a wistful dream.
You whine as he breaks the kiss. He chuckles softly and you feel your head spin. You rest your forehead against his again, staring deep into his lovely eyes.
"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you when it mattered," he apologizes, even though there was nothing to apologize for, even though this is all you could've ever wished for and more.
"It matters. It still does," you reply, watching as his eyes soften, looking at you lovingly. "We have eternity now anyways."
"I love you," he says, tone soft and gentle and so tender. You tremble, you burn, you crumble to your knees and he is there to catch you.
He loves me.