Bronte would never forget the first time he saw Fintan Pyren. No matter how old he got, that was one memory he would always retain.
Their first meeting was decades and centuries back. Bronte was now an Ancient and Fintan quite a bit older than him.
They'd met in Atlantis. Bronte had always been short and large crowds meant he got pushed around a lot and got lost easily. He'd been trying to cross a crowded square and was being jostled and shoved about. He was used to it, people shoving him away if he stumbled into them so when he ran into someone quite tall, with a nice chest (not that he noticed) the last thing he expected was for two arms to reach out and steady him, holding him at arms length.
Letting his eyes wander upward from the broad chest and shoulders, to a defined Adam's apple, all the was to a pair of sky-blue eyes that made his breath hitch just the tiniest bit. Those eyes expressed genuine concern, staring intently to see if he was okay. Small whisps of bold hair fell into the stranger's face, drawing Bronte's attention to his hair. Long and blond, it was tied into a messy ponytail that fell over his shoulder as he looked down at Bronte.
"Are you okay?"
Dear Something, his voice was smooth with a rough edge that had Bronte fighting to keep his composure. In the most dignified tone he could muster he replied with:
"I'm alright. Thank you."
The stranger smiled and the things it did with Bronte's heart were alarming.
"I'm Fintan."
The stranger, Fintan, let go of Bronte's shoulders.
"Bronte."
He responded, fully aware he was staring and eternally thankful that Fintan didn't seem to notice or care. Just then someone jostled him again making him fall slightly into Fintan who gave an amused smile.
"Maybe we should get away from this crowd."
He grabbed Bronte's hand and pulled him along, completely unaware of Bronte's internal crisis. They reached a quieter area of Atlantis and Fintan turned back to Bronte.
"So, Bronte, now that we've run away together, won't you tell me more about yourself?"
Bronte attempted to ignore the implications of Fintan's wording and agreed. They talked about trivial things. Bronte learned that Fintan was considerably older than him, his favorite color was grey, and that he had a strong sweet tooth. In return he told Fintan his age, that his favorite color was yellow, and that, unlike most elves, he wasn't really a fan of sweet things.
Eventually, as all conversations among elves do, they came to abilities.
"I'm a pyrokinetic." Fintan told him. "You?"
Bronte hesitated, he didn't talk about his ability much and it was more or less a secret.
"I'm an Inflictor." He explained, "I can make people feel pain with my mind."
Fintan didn't say anything, making Bronte think he'd scared him off. He moved to get up and leave only to be stopped.
"That sounds hard to handle."
Bronte looked at Fintan who stared back without a hint of disgust, only pure sincerity.
"It is." Bronte admitted. For some reason, the moment felt soft and safe.
They continued to meet after that. It wasn't secret but they didn't advertise their friendship either. Bronte's initial butterflies when meeting Fintan only grew in size until he was pretty sure he was falling for Fintan.
All the more shock for him when he discovered Fintan was a councillor.
"You're a what?"
Fintan smiled sheepishly.
"Sorry I didn't tell you. I was worried you'd treat me differently if you knew."
Bronte tried desperately to conceal his inner turmoil at this news. Fintan was a councillor. He couldn't date or marry. Men couldn't marry each other anyway, why was he upset?
"I'm just surprised. You don't act like one."
Fintan grimaced.
"Only around you. I don't need to worry about silly things with you."
Again, Bronte tried to stop the fluttering of his heart at those words. Fintan didn't like him as anything more than a friend and why did that hurt so much? He could bear it. He had to.
Much to Fintan's delight, their friendship didn't change until, years later, Bronte was elected to the council. Since no one really knew of their past, and both for some reason felt like they had to keep it a secret, they maintained a strictly professional relationship in public, not speaking more than they had to. Outside of that, they remained close friends, although slightly drifting apart.
All was well, that is, until Fintan was involved in an accident that killed five elves.
Bronte heard the report in horror. Fintan and five other Pyrokinetics had tried to summon Everblaze, resulting in the death of the other five. As the council banned pyrokinesis, Bronte was torn between relief, that Fintan was alive, and worry, because Fintan supported the ban. Not long after that, Fintan resigned from the council and lived secluded.
Many more decades passed and Bronte had become an ancient, learned to hide each and every emotion from the world. He hadn't heard from Fintan, didn't know if the man remembered him.
When Sophie Foster appeared, he knew something would go wrong. Something that would hurt him. Due to suspicions, Fintan had to be brought into custody. Seeing his handsome face again after so long was almost too much for Bronte to handle but the other showed no sign of recognition or remembrance.
When the order was given to break Fintan's mind, Bronte was terrified. Would they find their past? Their memories he treasured so dearly? Nothing. Nothing was mentioned. Alden Vacker's mind broke and chaos broke out in the lost cities. Bronte felt relieved even though he knew he shouldn't. Fintan's mind break had revealed that he was in some way involved with a rebel group and had trained another Pyrokinetic.
At long last, the council ordered Sophie Foster to heal Fintan's mind.
Looking at the burning all around him, hearing Oralie cry for Kenric, Bronte felt his world crumble. Those sky-blue eyes, playful smile, his Fintan, turned evil. When had this happened? How hadn't he noticed? If he just been a better friend, stayed in touch, could he have prevented this?
Bronte went numb for a long time, not wanting to know what Fintan's plans were. He handled everything with a hard shell, refusing to let things reach him. But then, Fintan was in prison. He'd agreed to cooperate and train Marella Redek, a new Pyrokinetic, so that she could hide her ability from the world.
He watched and heard how others went and spoke to him but hesitated to go by himself. Somehow, he found himself in front of the glass and in the chair that allowed him to speak to Fintan. Said man, sat with his back to the window, looking more vulnerable than Bronte had ever seen him.
"Once upon a time we could have had everything you know?"
Bronte wasn't sure why he was telling him this now.
"We could have run away together for good. I'd have done if you'd asked me to."
Fintan didn't respond.
"Was I a bad friend? Could I have changed anything that happened? Any thing you did?"
A slight tensing in Fintan's shoulders indicated that he was listening but Bronte didn't notice.
"Were you always like this? Were you lying to me? Was everything you made me feel and think fake? Did I ever mean anything to you? Because I hope you know it's too late! I can't run with you anymore! I can't run with you ever!"
After Bronte left, Fintan waited a long time before wiping his frozen tears and whispering.
"I always knew it was unlawful."
A/n: characters are probably ooc but I tried my best to stick with the timeline. Hope you enjoyed! No hate on the ship please!
Opaz out!!!