Ask The Long and Winding Road

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan hadn't felt like he was entirely himself for some time. He meditated more and more frequently, trying his family's methods to figure out exactly the cause, but he always found a roadblock in his thinking after a certain point. It was like some poison had crept into his being. He hated that he couldn't find and burn it away, but he still tried simply because he felt he must.

It was during one of these meditations that the Firrerreo learned of what happened.

Firrerre had burned. He'd seen it on the holonet, read reports that crossed his desk from different sources. That alone would have been enough to evoke a raging storm of emotions. It was where he'd been raised, grown up, trained, lived his life as a Drast prince. Where he'd made friends. It was the place where the Kravos line had been for a long time. Firrerre had been his. He'd felt the black parade of lost souls as the planet was bombarded by a Sith fleet. This targeted glassing of the Firrerreon people by itself left him stunned and forlornly furious. But when he learned it had been Raze who lead it?

Morgan didn't know what to think or feel about that. There'd been a barking, snarling, whining roar as iron limbs took out their fury on the furniture of Voyager, blood, torn cloth, and shards of wood on the lounge floor. What would have been a boxed lunched fell to kitchen tiles. Tears spilled from golden eyes when he finally collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably, to the ground. Emotions in chaos, he didn't know or understand the exact reasons why this happened. Morgan only thought the bewildering feeling in his chest might be heartbreak, only knew he desperately needed to see Emryc even if he wasn't sure what he'd be like or what he'd say.

So this time, Morgan found him in an out of the way Sith Temple deep in the mountains. He didn't dress as a prince but in ordinary clothes. His hair was styled back and every step of preening done even when slender fingers shook, a ritual to try and steady himself. He'd forced himself to eat and meditated since he couldn't sleep. When he arrived at the door his pupils were dilated to slits, eyes surrounded by puffy redness and hands balled stiffly at his sides, hair already a little out of place.

For the first time in years it didn't quite feel like coming home and Morgan hesitated, heart hammering wildly in his chest. Numbly he input a code and stepped through the doors of a massive, soundproof meditation chamber, freezing after the first few steps as all the familiar scents struck him. It always smelled like Emryc wherever he was.

"Emryc!" he called out after the door shut behind him, feet moving against the way they felt like lead to march inside. Morgan didn't yet know what else to say.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc hadn’t been in contact with anyone since the attack on Firrerre. He wasn’t the type to talk to anyone about issues, and he certainly owed no one any explanation. He withdrew into himself as he often did, focused on deep meditation. He had been in this chamber for hours, silently leaning into the Force to reel his mind back into a calm, placid lake from the tumultuous oceans that roiled before.

He had made no real efforts to hide himself, though he did ensure that no one had any knowledge of where his ship was. It was the only material thing in the galaxy that was precious to the Sith Lord, and he wanted to keep it away from anyone that wanted words with him. Words like he expected from Morgan.

Emryc didn’t respond immediately when Morgan stormed in and shouted his name. He didn’t have to look to know the man had been weeping. He didn’t need the Force to sense the tremendous pain that tore through Morgan. However, if there was any reaction to seeing Morgan like this, it certainly did not manifest in Emryc’s demeanor. The man had always held fast through the stormiest weathers, and he intended to remain the same through this.

The half Sephi’s hands rose to lift the helmet up and off his head once he was assured no one but Morgan could see. When the Firrerreo looked, he would note that the normally silver eyes had faint traces of yellow in them. From the looks of it, it was clear this was permanent and not a sudden brush of Raze making an appearance.

Emryc’s face was the same stoic he normally wore. He didn’t move to rise from his seated position on the floor, still in that meditative stance. When he spoke, his voice was its usual baritone laced with frost.

“Morgan.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan stood there on leadened legs after walking through the door and stared at the helmet of Darth Raze. The half-Sephi's was very still with no motion even he could pick up. It was a sort of stillness he recognized easily and made him wish he could see the man's face. None of what he felt or thought was coming together in a way that made words so he just stared at the visor.

But when he could after Emryc removed his helmet it sent shards of glass through the Firrerreo's chest. Reddened goldens stared blanky at silvers tinged with yellow, traces of Raze in the colour he loved. The yellow was steady and even, the man's face as still as the very first time they'd met years ago.

A frosty voice said Morgan's name and legs that didn't want to hold him up gave way. As if a spell was broken he lowered to the floor across from the other man. His rear plopped down and legs slowly pulled in to a seated position. Not for a moment did his eyes leave Emryc's face, stuck to it like he could see nothing else. Partly slit pupils visibly wavered between fully contracting to slits and rounding out to normal.

They saw the silver eyes that had filled with warmth when he laughed and sang. Lips which often formed only the slightest expressions that he loved to send into smiles and laughter of their own, lips that kissed him sweetly and said things that painted his skin gold. Broad shoulders and arms that carried and held him, the lap he felt safest and most comfortable in, large hands that felt just right to intertwine.

Morgan saw the eyes that watched Firrerre burn, face to face, and still wasn't sure what to say. Eyes that had seen to Dorian's death and stared Morgan down when Korriban had been brought up. Eyes he'd sometimes tried to catch glimpses of. He found that when they were like this, Morgan missed how they'd been before.

"Emryc," the Firrerreo repeated in a soft voice. He wasn't trying to force calm under panic despite his heart thunderously fluttering like a bird's. This wasn't Morgan tamping down his temper, sitting there with limp limbs. There were no more tears falling from golden eyes. Instead of his ordinarily lively and ever-shifting face there was nearly no expression at all.

"Is this what you felt like?" He only felt numb.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc did not relax or hunch in his posture, still seated perfectly upright with his hands resting on his knees. He gazed at Morgan as he slumped to the floor. He saw the pain in his eyes, but there was no flooding of memories and emotions internally or externally. This was precisely what Emryc had been conditioned for in the Cadre program. This was exactly the repeated and brutal training he had been forced through - to compartmentalize and box anything deemed weak.

The half Sephi was silent for a few moments after Morgan spoke. His face remained impassive as he looked the other man in the eye. The hints of yellow glimmered against the silvers. They looked out of place. They were not the eyes the Firrerreo had fallen in love with, but these were his eyes now and likely for the rest of his days.

“It was a Free Worlds Alliance planet,” Emryc stated flatly, “Spare me your grievances when you had no qualms with the multiple Free World planets we had attacked prior to this.”

He didn’t even bother reminding Morgan of his own attack on Taris.

Emryc’s demeanor was especially detached, as if Morgan were simply wasting his time. In truth, this was who Emryc had always been. It was simply the first time the Firrerreo had it directed towards himself instead of watching Emryc engage others with it.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's head slowly tilted slightly to his left as he stared, the half-Sephi's words washing over him. The Firrerreo didn't even flinch. He was in pain, but he hadn't voiced any grievances. Didn't know if he could just then anyway or what they'd be. So much had shaken him recently and now this rocked him to the core.

As discernible feelings abandoned him Morgan only had his memories and what he saw in front of him. He slowly blinked and found it difficult to think. But he remembered perfectly well. His head returned to a normal orientation after a few moments.

Morgan saw the complete difference in demeanor, an icy chill that suffused Emryc. That didn’t belong there. That yellow didn't belong there. He remembered there was more to him than that, all the little micro-expressions he made and tones of his voice. The way singing brought a little warmth to winter's gaze, moments of concern or intimate closeness, excitement over old books or ships. Remembered how Emryc closed off when he'd accidentally hurt Morgan on the couch or when Morgan was afraid the half-Sephi wouldn't want to marry him.

His lips parted slowly, and unlike what he'd lately felt, he didn't have a storm of emotions to filter through what he said.

"Do you remember what you said to me, on Bespin?" His voice was still fairly quiet, but steady, his eyes looking somewhere beyond Emryc into the past. "'Red does not suit you best'," Morgan continued, goldens finding the impassive and yellow-tinged silvers. "I asked you, then, 'what does suit me'." There was a slight upward twitch of his lips that was gone a moment later.

"Are these colors you wear by choice?"

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was silent after the question. Morgan often spoke in riddles, and sometimes the half Sephi had patience for it, and other times he didn’t. He felt somewhere in the middle, but he was first quiet as he pondered. His gaze never shifted from the other man, the calm and frosty silvers mottled with yellow piercing into the goldens that had shed many tears.

“It was a question about you, not me,” Emryc reminded Morgan. It had never been about Emryc. Morgan had asked what colors suited him and Emryc had answered whichever color he wore by choice, “And these are the colors you have chosen,” His gaze lingered on the other man, forcing him to look into the yellows that weren’t in his eyes before.

Emryc was not going to let Morgan blame anyone but himself. He had told the other man multiple times that he was burning everything around Emryc in a fit of jealousy and possessive emotions. The half Sephi had tolerated it for a very long time, but that tolerance had a limit. There was no mercy or pity on Emryc’s face, no hint of pain or silent longing. The half Sephi was in no mood for games, his mind craving the blissful realms of meditation.

“Speak plainly or leave my sight.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

His shoulders drooped when Emryc said that Morgan chose these colours. It was something he'd feared after he'd heard the news and the half-Sephi's answer confirmed it. After visiting Tiamat he'd pondered and reflected on the how and why of his behaviour. The truth was Morgan did blame himself.

Why else would Emryc target what he had and be like this if Morgan hadn't hurt and angered him? That was exactly why he didn't look away from frozen-over eyes. Eyes that spoke of colours Morgan chose and forced him to see just what the half-Sephi meant. Speak plainly, Emryc had said. Morgan felt if ever was the time it must be right now, and few spoke more plainly than the man who sat across from him.

"I chose wrong, Emryc. I've been jealous and afraid. Made selfish choices I had no right to. Choices that hurt you." He spoke deliberately, quiet but trying to put what little energy he had into what he said. This wasn't a game to him.

"You make me feel weak and powerful at once. You make me want to run from this as much as run to it. Fear it as much as I desire it." Morgan paused. "You make me question my every principle." Slowly he rocked himself forward on listless legs, lithe arms coming forward until slender fingertips touched the floor, silver brands visible as his shirt's cuff slid back.

A Drast did not kneel, he'd said it many times before. It meant standing tall, facing challenges, accepting and learning from failure instead of collapsing before it, never giving up. In some ways it was also literal. But Morgan didn't care. In the end, the colours of a prince weren't those he'd chosen to wear himself any more than Emryc had chosen to be a soldier boy.

Morgan came up on his knees and his body bent forward, palms flat on the floor and head lowered. Goldens looked up at Emryc again, and in that moment he wasn't a prince. He was only a man before a great fortress, the silver-eyed man its sovereign lord. He was a humble supplicant before the steps of a great throne, begging silently to be heard. Gold met yellowed silver and, unbound by the will of Gods and Emperors, Morgan knelt before the man he loved.

It was a kind only used for deep apologies. Emryc of all people should know it was a far greater gesture of sincerity and regret for what he'd done than the plain words of I'm sorry he could speak.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc’s expression didn’t change as Morgan spoke, though he was surprised at the lack of an outburst. The Firrerreo had been a whirlwind of emotions in their past confrontations, powerful enough to where Emryc simply withdrew into his own psyche. The half Sephi had to recalibrate to adjust to this kind of a reaction, one he hadn’t prepared for. There was the slightest twitch in his jaw as the man spoke, the faintest sliver of expression on the frigid half Sephi’s face.

He observed in silence as Morgan began to shift his posture, the Firrerreo’s actions quickly becoming apparent on what he intended. Emryc did not close the distance between them, but Morgan would feel sudden and abrupt resistance when he attempted to lower his palms and head, stopping him short of completing the motion to kneel. The resistance was exceptionally powerful and Morgan would have to exhaust his strength to push past it.

“A Drast does not kneel,” Emryc’s voice cut in icily as he pushed Morgan to sit upright with the Force. The half Sephi’s eyes were narrowed as he stared at the other man.

“Do not waver from your disciplines, Morgan,” He spoke tersely. That had been a line he wouldn’t let the other man cross - even now after all this. A few moments passed as Emryc sat in silence, his gaze still locked on the other man’s.

“Forcing yourself to change who you are is not something that will please either of us,” Emryc explained quietly, “I am not the man you wish for me to be. That you need me to be. Changing your ideals and your principles on a whim to force that is not something I can respect. It will leave us both miserable in the end.”

The biting edge eased back from his tone. It was enough to reveal that Emryc very much still loved the other man, but he also recognized their vastly conflicting principles and ideals.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Even right now, after all this, the half-Sephi's influence on the Force around Morgan was habitually welcome. Familiar as the scents of cologne, citrus, and herbs. Comforting as a curving couch bolted to well used to deck plates that rang now with song or the warmth of a shared bed. As if being caught by trusted arms just before a fall, Emryc moving him back up to sit was hardly resisted at all. Gold found narrowed silvers again, the other man's tone washing over Morgan like leaping into wintry rivers.

Morgan didn't look away. From icy to terse he only listened with widened eyes. As Emryc became quieter Morgan shifted how he sat, scooting just a little bit closer in the process. He'd seen that tiny expression, he heard how the half-Sephi's tone changed, and in spite of himself his lips felt for a moment almost like they wanted to smile.

Morgan was quiet at first while he looked at Emryc. Steadily his spine straightened and his hands rested in his lap. Slowly he shook his head without breaking his gaze away.

"My principles and ideals haven't changed. What you are has always been enough." They were surely different people, but if Emryc wasn't the kind of man Morgan needed he would have let him kneel. The way Morgan's thoughts flowed in this moment brought a certain sense of clarity freed of a deafening whirlwind in his head. "We both know I have cause for jealousy. But I barely cared about the others before you left." There was a reason Morgan wasn't dressed like a prince right now. He'd rarely worn those tunics until hearing about the marriage and the thoughts had rolled on from there, such a small thing he hadn't even noticed it.

"I was hurt and lashed out unfairly, feared losing you. Withdrew behind others' expectations rather than face what happened. It made me afraid but I let it sit in my heart and become poison until we took from each other." Goldens were unwavering with a sense of gathering focus, locked firmly to yellowed silvers. "My family demanded a perfect prince, Emryc, but I wasn't born perfect. I rebelled in little ways. Always loved to sing, refused arrangements. Avoided the fancy tunics, wandered after dark, went dancing in neon nightclubs and got into fights." Like a dam was broken through the words kept coming with the matchless confidence of plain and honest truth defiant of fear, hands gesturing as he spoke.

"I've not been myself and I think you know that too. But I know who I am. I am Ali Drast and will follow my own ambitions, not my family's. I'm the Nightingale who sings free and loud." He leaned forward slightly. "I'm Morgan, a man you have helped to grow and change along with yourself. A man who feels more at home with you on a ship in an oversized hoodie than in any noble's estate or fine clothes in the galaxy." He reached into a pants pocket with a spark of renewed energy and took hold of something.

"I refuse to doubt myself any longer," Morgan declared as the two halves of a tiny, flat, black box fell to the floor. "And I never doubted you." Held up in slender fingers was a crystalline coin, ISC purple with the face of Emryc staring back at the man himself with eyes of purest silver. A limited edition commemorative Crown minted to celebrate the creation of the ISC currency.

"A Drast does not kneel. Running from this is just as bad. So be angry with me, tell me you're hurt. Tell me what you do and don't want, and I'll tell you the same of myself. Because just like you paint me golden days, I want to paint yours silver." It was as if black, roiling storm clouds had begun to part and the first morning rays of aureate sun in a long time were slipping through. Boldly bright, warm, and bittersweet. Beneath the weight of everything else, of fear, uncertainty, and vulnerability, Morgan had been changing all this time.

"Because I love you, Emryc Thorne, and that makes me strong enough to be here in front of you. Unbowed, unbent, unbroken. No games, no hiding, no running away. Life is too short for any less."

Through it all, Morgan never looked away.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was silent the entire time Morgan spoke, but his gaze didn’t shift either. Though Morgan said a lot, very little of it was anything he hadn’t known already. He had seen the prince share a side of himself that was just for Emryc. The half Sephi had done the same for Morgan, his frozen walls having been melted away by the Firrerreo’s warmth. Even so, Emryc patiently heard the other man out, gaze flicking briefly to take in sight of the currency. It was a reminder of just where Emryc began and where he was today. It reminded him of the time Morgan had worn a President Thorne shirt. For all his successes and failures, Morgan had been there for many of them. The man had stood by his side, loving him through it all. He also disagreed with the Firrerreo’s words about lashing out unfairly - the man’s reaction had always been appropriate. He and Emryc simply wanted different things.

Why, then, was Emryc still withdrawn?

The half Sephi was silent for a long time after Morgan spoke. He didn’t look away, just as Morgan hadn’t. It was then that Emryc’s thoughts ventured all the way back to the first time he met him, before he ever knew the journey they would begin together. Before he ever knew that he wanted their names woven together. He had been so sure, he was so firm in his beliefs, he had been willing to change himself for Morgan when he asked. But perhaps the issue was that the changes did not come from within Emryc. Perhaps it was because the changes were desired. Perhaps it was because the changes were to make Morgan happy. He had put Morgan’s happiness above his own, which ought to have been the definition of love. And yet it left him feeling bitter. It enraged Raze who was far more present now.

Emryc had expected Morgan to lash out about Firrerre, but the man’s entire focus had been on their relationship. The half Sephi had devastated and burned everything he had known and loved, the place he had called home, and Morgan appeared more upset at the dynamics between the two of them. Emryc felt a massive sense of crushing pressure, a pressure he carried with him for a while. A pressure he felt whenever Morgan confronted or sought out anyone else Emryc was involved with. A pressure whenever Morgan wanted to move further. He recalled that sense of anxiety he felt when the ideas of moving in were brought up. He thought of his own wishes to progress with the other man, and yet the discomfort he felt when it had been put in practice. In the back of his mind, Emryc had been playing roles he thought he wanted to play, but it ultimately conflicted with who he was as a whole. At least for now.

The ultimate culmination of it all had been when he caught himself overstepping boundaries. He thought about standing in that river with Jaikus. He thought about the sharp pang of pain he felt as he realized he had crossed lines. Lines he wouldn't have crossed if he were perfectly happy and content. Could he tell Morgan about that? Would that just be yet another blow to land on the man that wanted to desperately make whatever this was work?

Emryc closed his eyes and exhaled quietly. He opened his eyes again, and the yellows never left. They were here to stay and they wouldn’t budge no matter what.

“You need to find out who you are independent of me,” The half Sephi never looked away from the other man, “You need to mourn the loss of your home. You need to understand and grasp the gravity of what I have done to you.”

The half Sephi’s face was entirely stoic as he spoke, his tone the usual monotone baritone, “I don’t want this anymore.”

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan watched the other go through his chains of thought. The Firrerreo knew Emryc very well by now even the expressions were stoic, even if his eyes had that little bit of yellow in them. Emryc was independent and Morgan had been impatient over the course of their relationship. The half-Sephi panicked over moving in together, froze over being his boyfriend. Golden eyes were observant, but sometimes they'd seen what they wanted to see, and Morgan hadn't let his boyfriend be ready on his own. Truthfully he didn't believe it had ever been about monogamy or sharing. Only commitment and impatience.

Emryc had always been enough for him, like he'd said. Morgan just didn't know how much of what he wanted came sincerely from within himself.

But right now Firrerreo was in agony, in shock, numbed to his own feelings. He'd left his rage behind in broken things on his ship, unable to process it all right way. It was stubborn determination that kept him in front of Emryc while he considered Morgan's words and after he opened his yellow-tinged eyes again. This time when Emryc spoke Morgan did flinch a little, but still he shook his head, more sharply this time. His voice started off relatively quiet.

"I'm not done," Sparks of pain and anger flickered Morgan's eyes, but he still had more to say. He needed to say it all, to be fully understood before he left this temple. "You burned old and precious things. Set where I began my life and grew up aflame! You scatted to ash my culture, my people, my family and friends!" His voice grew louder as the anger and hurt he'd let out on Voyager resurfaced just a little.

There was a flare in that bright sun. For a brief moment it became as harsh as the desert and his voice became a shout as golden eyes flashed and tears fell down his face. "I am furious because of what you did!!" The depth of his pain was abundantly real even while buried in how numb Morgan felt. Emryc would easily recognize that it didn't reflect physically through the Force solely because his immediate fury had been spent on his ship. Then it was gone as quick as it'd come and he was left even more tired and numb than before. The Firrerreo stopped to cough into his sleeve, wiping his eyes roughly with the other.

Morgan slowly exhaled. As he continued, Emryc would hear how raw the singer's voice was. "Didn't come here just to tell you I'm sorry, I love you, that I understand the what and why." He scooted just a little closer although not quite close enough to reach out and touch. Morgan hadn't even tried to touch the half-Sephi. He'd never say it aloud but he didn't know if he could stand to be that physically close. At least for now. But he could look Emryc in the eyes when the half-Sephi said things that Morgan knew affected him more than he ever revealed.

"Also came to say I won't hurt you. I won't fight you, target Ship, or go after others. I already clawed too deep and now we're both wounded." Because if he did they would do it forever. And it needed to stop. Because he couldn't stand the thought of doing it. He didn't think he could even if he wanted to. "I don't want to punish you. You've always done that to yourself." The whip, the time he'd lived in a village, when he bloodied his hand on the cargo hold wall. Maybe even, in a way, the ISC initiative to help the Firrerre refugees.

"Yes, I do need to mourn. Find what I truly want. We both need time and space to process... everything. " Slender fingers, silk and iron both, clasped and rubbed anxiously at the opposite wrist. "At least for now." He hesitated, struggling against the weight of what he said. Morgan still didn't want to let him go.

"I can handle space. But I won't abandon you, Emryc. I promised."

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

The half Sephi’s ears swiveled towards flattening as Morgan’s voice rose. Even then Emryc’s expression didn’t change as the Firrerreo’s tirade washed over him. This was the reaction he had expected when Morgan first arrived. He could hear the man’s hoarse voice, he could see the pain on his face and he could see the eyes that had shed so many tears. A part of him wanted nothing more than to close the distance and hold him close. He wanted so desperately to compartmentalize everything like he often did. He wanted to brush it under the rug and have everything be all right with the other man. He wanted to cause Morgan’s yelling to quiet down to tender whispers. He wanted to be called soldier boy and cheri again instead of hearing the pure anguish in his voice.

For one of the few times in his life, however, Emryc was facing his problems head on. He wasn’t withdrawing, he wasn’t running, he wasn’t compartmentalizing. Morgan had always told Emryc that he had been enough. The truth was that Emryc was not enough. He was not enough for the Firrerreo as he was. He was not enough for Morgan with how it took him so much longer to ease into situations. He was not enough for the ways he could only love with half of himself. He was not enough because of the way he repeatedly hurt the other man and gave him cause to seek out and damage relationships with others. But Emryc said none of these things. He knew them in his mind, and he hoped Morgan would come to that same conclusion on his own.

There was a moment of silence after Morgan finished. While the Firrerreo had moved quite a bit and had fidgeted with his hands, Emryc was perfectly still in his meditation pose. The subtle muscles of his face remained still, and the only movement from him was his ears at loud noises or the blinking of his eyes.

Emryc’s mind and thoughts were as unwavering as he was physically. He had been sure about this before, so sure that it took a very long period of a thousand small cuts for him to arrive here today. As a result, he was unwavering in his choices today. He was firm about what he wanted and what was necessary, even if it pained him in ways he never could have imagined.

The half Sephi, as was usually his style, had little to say. He self reflected more than he ever lashed out. He kept his gaze on Morgan for a few moments before he finally spoke, his voice firm despite the pain he felt coursing through his entire body.

“Good bye, Morgan.”

It would be a while after the Firrerreo left that Emryc’s posture relaxed. He drew his knees up and rested his arms on them, his entire being torn to shreds on the inside. It was more pain than he ever could have inflicted with a lifetime of the whip on his back. It was more pain than Grandmaster Oota tearing into his mind. It was more pain than the first realization that he was blind.

Moisture rapidly collected in his eyes, but he squeezed them shut before a single drop fell. Weakness was not allowed especially now that Raze was present at all times. Emryc exhaled a shuddered breath, silently burying his face in his hands as his fingers curled into his hair to grasp at the locks. He would be there for hours on end. As the night came and went. As the sun rose and fell. He would be frozen in his silent mourning and would be dead to the galaxy.

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan hadn't expected to ever fall in love in the first place. Didn't anticipate all the different kinds of feelings that would come with it. He'd learned there were endless good things to be found on this long and winding road. The warm familiarity of trust, how free it could feel to be touched so tenderly and comforted away from the greater galaxy. How his heart could soar to untold heights just from someone else smiling. The joy, and laughter, and all the intimate little moments that made every trouble seem so small in comparison.

The way three ordinary little words became extraordinary, sweeping aside all the angry silver and turning skin to gold like it was the easiest thing in the galaxy. Even after everything the half-Sephi being so withdrawn made him want to charge over, embrace him, sing soft and sweet to pull him out again. He wanted to make Emryc smile and tell him everything would be all right, to let out rumbling purrs so loud and strong there could never be any doubt just how much he was cherished.

Morgan wished so badly he could just reach out and take Emryc's hands in his and tell him how to unfold his love.

And now he also knew what it felt like for his heart to be broken and shattered. No part of burning brands into flesh had hurt so completely as the man he loved setting fire to his homeworld. No weapon had ever run him through like the yellow in Emryc's eyes. No petty physical pain had ever agonized him so profoundly as those three ordinary little words.

“Good bye, Morgan.”

Struck like by lightning the Firrerreo stopped and stared. Morgan looked at Emryc and saw the lover there that's sleeping. With every mistake they must surely have been learning, he knew, but what the half-Sephi had done could never be forgiven. Tears fell in silent streams from golden eyes already marked red by their bitter sting and he deflated under the weight of hateful reality, lips curling downturned. One more time he forced himself to meet the unwavering and yellow-tinged silvers, his voice rough, choked, and hollow.

"Good bye, Emryc."

Morgan finally stood as if he struggled against an unseen weight, sluggish and faltering. He looked at Emryc for a few long and torturous moments, remembering against his will their very first farewell aboard the Cadre station.

"Help them. Do everything you can," Morgan said quietly as he stepped toward the chamber door. "Please." The ISC had sent aid before anyone else. He wanted his people to be protected and treated as well as they could be even if the man in charge of it was the same who'd burned their home.

Just before he opened the door again Morgan paused in place, slender fingers floating in the air before the controls. His lips parted slowly and choked out four ordinary little words laced with pain, and sorrow, and the heavy weight of memory that meant they were never intended to be said this way.

"Good bye... Soldier boy."

And then he was gone, out through the door, leaving Emryc alone. He returned to his ship and as it left the planet behind everything hit him at once all over again. Morgan wept without restraint for all he had to let go, raged against the truth of it. Claws dug and dragged, leaving crimson streaks on silvered skin as tears fell like rain from golden skies. Breath came only halting and ragged, each one now taken with the knowledge there was no more marching home.

Uncounted time passed in routineless mourning, adrift in his ship amongst the stars heading to anywhere else he could be, far and away across the universe. Eventually a memory brought Morgan to his hallikset, forcing himself to motion. Through it he grieved, shaking fingers passing over solemn strings. Each sound rang with everything that had been lost. Through it all Morgan carried a promise he'd made what seemed now a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Unbroken words to keep,
Still, his guitar gently weeps,
Wailing while he sings,

Good bye, Cheri.
​

@Sreeya

//END THREAD