28. Long May They Reign

That afternoon, Morgan followed Aaron across the off-white tile of the East Side Meadows lobby, stopping short of the front desk to scan their personal chips over a metal plate that read Visitor Check-in Required. The nurse behind the counter shot Aaron a grin before turning to Morgan, and her eyes bulged in their sockets.

“Oh! Oh, my word, Mister Fell!” she squealed, “Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir! Thank you! Thank you so much for what you’ve done for our patients and our staff! You have no idea how grateful we are!”

“It was really my-”

“Everyone!” she yelled into her comm, “Morgan Fell is here with Aaron! Come say hi!”

Morgan opened his mouth to discourage the impending wave of gratitude but found himself incapable of words at the look of pure joy on Aaron’s face.

“You’ll be okay. I’m right here if they start to drown you,” he snickered.

“This is not love, Aaron Oliver Jones.” Morgan scowled. “This is treachery.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise,” Aaron said with a wink.

The few employees on duty crowded around them, shaking Morgan’s hand and clapping Aaron on the shoulder. Morgan couldn’t get a word in edgewise, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. After several minutes of awkward conversation and repeated expressions of thanks, Aaron pulled him close around the waist.

“Alright, I think I’ve traumatized the boyfriend with enough kind words for today.” He chuckled. “Time to introduce him to mom.”

“My hero,” Morgan scoffed, letting himself be steered down the hall.

Aaron smacked a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Yep. Saved you again, didn’t I?”

Morgan laughed as Aaron pushed open a wide door with a small window. The room beyond was covered with lavender carpeting. The walls were coated in dingy, floral wallpaper that peeled away in several places. Several armchairs and a small loveseat sat along the walls nearest the door, and in the far corner of the room, on a high bed with wheels, draped with a maroon blanket, lay Aaron’s mother.

Her dark blonde hair rested alongside her face, neatly brushed over her shoulders. Her slender frame was pale from years of inactivity, and her long lashes fluttered softly over closed eyes. The resemblance between them was astounding, considering her son had lived looking exactly the way he did centuries before.

Aaron let go of Morgan with a smile, slowly moving to the bedside. He leaned over and lightly kissed her forehead, speaking in little more than a whisper, “Hey, mama. There’s someone here that I’d like you to meet. Someone very precious to me. Now don’t go getting all protective, alright? There’s no one in the world that looks out for me like he does.”

Morgan released a silent chuckle as Aaron reached out a hand in invitation.

“Mom,” Aaron said, “This is Morgan. My boyfriend.”

Morgan looked from him to his mother, uncertain of what to do. Aaron nodded in encouragement with a soft smile.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss Jones.”

“Oh. No, no. You’re likely to wake her up, calling her that,” Aaron said, laughing, “Amelia. You can call her Amelia.”

Morgan laughed and gave a small bow of his head. “My apologies, Amelia. I-” He tried to find the words he might say if she were conscious. The words he might use to express how grateful he was to the woman who brought Aaron into the world, who cared for him and loved him when he was unable to. “Thank you. Thank you for being everything that you are to him. I don’t know what might have become of me without him.”

Aaron chuckled through tears, wrapping an arm around him and kissing him repeatedly on the side of his head. “He’s my whole world, mama. I’ve never been so happy. We’re moving in together. Morgan’s got a really nice place. You’d love the view. You can see the whole city up there.”

Morgan turned to the loveseat behind them, dragging it close with a wave of his hand. They sat huddled together as Aaron rested his head on Morgan’s shoulder, telling story after story of Amelia Jones; the fierce woman that had raised him all by herself. He spoke of the birthdays when she would call his school, claiming he was ill so they could go out into the city to visit all of his favorite places. He spoke of the many times she had read the tales of King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, and the sinister Morgan le Fay to him before bed. And he spoke of the way she encouraged him throughout his adolescence, cheering him on when he joined the academy in the way that only a mother could.

“Morgan...” Aaron whispered from his shoulder, “Is there... is there a way?”

Morgan didn’t need to ask what he meant. He’d been wondering the same thing himself. “I don’t know, my love. I’ll look. Of course, I’ll look. I’d do anything to give her back to you, but...”

“I know...” he choked, “It’s like Theresa said, right? Like Daphne said about Alena. A witch can’t truly restore life. Even for Albion there was a cost.”

“It’s not quite the same. She’s still alive, but finding the damage that’s holding her in this state… it’s very delicate magic.” Morgan pressed a kiss into his hair. “I’ll do anything for you, though. You know that.”

Aaron wrapped both arms around his middle. “I love you so damn much.”

“Said the stars...” Morgan whispered, earning a fond chuckle in return. He looked up, glancing over Amelia where she lay. “Hey... can I try something?”

“Hmm?” Aaron looked up to meet him with reddened, glittering eyes before following his gaze. “Try... what?”

Morgan shuffled forward. “I was wondering if… it’s only a sensory spell. I’d like to see how aware she is.”

“Please,” Aaron said with an urgent nod.

Morgan held a hand above Amelia’s head, palm aglow. He ran it over her eyes and down the length of her neck. He moved to the sides of her head where her hair covered her ears—and his skin prickled. “Aaron, she... she can hear you. I can feel her listening. I think… she’s been able to hear you all along.”

“What?” Aaron leapt to his feet, leaning forward over the bed, sobbing tears of joy. “Mom! Mom, you can hear me? Everything I’ve said to you this whole time! Oh gods, mom, I miss you... I miss you so much!”

Morgan broke at the desperation in his voice, letting his own tears fall and pulling Aaron tight. Aaron clutched at his back, taking rasping breaths. “Thank you. Thank you, baby... Thank you.”

The two of them returned to the Manor, appearing in the entry hall laden with bags full of belongings from Aaron’s apartment. After passing the landlord in the lobby and witnessing the look of terror on his face at the sight of them, Morgan explained about his first encounter with the man. They spent the entire trip laughing as they packed. Aaron was still cackling about it when they stepped into the living room to find Gwen curled up against Lancelot with a book.

“My piece of ass. Dear gods, I wish I could have seen him fall down those stairs.”

“What did Morgan do now?” Gwen smirked from the floor where she sat between Lance’s legs.

“You didn’t tell her?” Aaron gaped at him.

“I was unconscious. When would I have told her?” Morgan shrugged. “I put the fear of... well, me in his sleazy landlord the day I went over there looking for something to scry with.”

Gwen screamed, laughing, “Yes! I wondered why he left you alone for so long. What did you say to him?”

“He threatened to make him pretty and sell him to the horniest top he could find on Pleasure Avenue.” Aaron grinned.

Gwen’s cackling grew so wild that she fell back against Lancelot, who couldn’t help but shake with laughter beneath her.

“Whoa...” Aaron gave Lancelot a crooked smile, looking him up and down. “Look at you, my man! Stylish new do and modern-day threads? Thought we’d have a little more trouble getting you to fit in.”

Morgan folded his arms over his chest, shooting Lancelot an approving nod. Several inches had been cut from his dark hair, curling at the back and over his ears, and raking above his ocean blue eyes. His beard had been neatly trimmed and styled down to a sleek scruff. He wore straight cut jeans, basic white socks, and was drowning in an oversized, navy hoodie.

“Oh, you weren’t here for that. The trouble was had.” Gwen laughed.

Lancelot frowned at her. “Must you bring me further shame, darling? I allowed you to fashion me into this ragged, contemporary creature. You could leave me some dignity at the very least.”

“He reached for his sword when I turned the trimmers on.” Gwen giggled.

Lancelot growled in his throat.

“You’ll figure it out, Lance.” Morgan offered him a sympathetic smile. “It took me a while when I got here. How are the others doing?”

“Carys, Rhys, Dylan and Bryn went with Daphne and Shane to have a look around the city,” Lancelot said, “Percy is suffering unhindered bliss. The man keeps sneaking off to the lavatory to admire his new appearance. And I think Gawain is still sulking in the arboretum.”

“Bathroom. Greenhouse.” Aaron smiled, turning to Morgan. “Might need a few of those alter runes, sweetheart.”

Morgan blew a breath through his lips at the thought. “Woe am I to be remiss at the behest of my beloved king...” He grinned wickedly at the baffled looks on their faces. “But I won’t be doing that to anyone else. I only did it to trick the seal on my tomb. I can’t tell you how much I regret giving up those parts of myself.”

Aaron dropped the duffle he was holding and moved into Morgan’s space, pulling their bodies flush and pecking his lips. “I adore all the parts of you just the way they are.”

“Ugh,” Gwen groaned, snuggling her face into Lancelot’s shirt, “Get a room.”

“I live here!” Aaron growled, “You get a room!”

Morgan chuckled against him. “Actually, there’s more than enough space. I was going to offer them a room here... if that’s okay with you.”

“Mmm...” Aaron feigned annoyance, glowering at Gwen.

“Wow, Jones.” Gwen shot him an indignant scowl. “Benevolent and loving king, my ass.”

“Guinevere!” Lancelot leaned forward in shock. “That’s your king you’re speaking to! Even if he is a bit of a cad. Though, that’s not uncharacteristic...” He smirked at Aaron.

“Banished!” Aaron yelled, waving his hands dramatically, “Degradation and exile, the lot of you!”

Morgan was holding himself upright against Aaron, fighting back tears of laughter at their performance. Gwen and Lancelot joined in, and the commotion drew the attention of Frey, Percival and Gawain from the hall.

“Enjoying yourselves without us, I see.” Percival pouted, folding his arms over his chest as he and Frey took seats on separate couches.

The man’s dark blond hair had been cropped short, curling in small rings over his forehead. He was clean shaven and wore tight jeans that Morgan suspected to be his own above a pair of white loafers. A teal tank top hung low on his chest, showing off light hairs and his defined figure. Percival had always been boyishly handsome, but the transformation was even more striking than Lancelot’s.

Gawain, however, looked a bit lost standing in the doorway. His dark, wild hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail. His beard was haphazardly trimmed and had patches in places where it seemed like he too had misgivings over the trimmers. He still wore the chausses from his armor above an old, battered pair of Morgan’s boots that looked uncomfortably tight. He had given in and removed his gambeson at least, wearing a simple, white tee that stretched taut over his barrel chest.

“Aaron is giving into his more unruly side to ensure that there are less people here to intrude while they’re off banging.” Gwen snickered.

“Unruly?” He feigned insult with a hand over his chest. “I thought I was quite lenient given your blatant lèse-majesté.”

Morgan shook his head with a grin. “Okay, you tyrant, go take your things to our room before you stoke a rebellion.”

Aaron threw his head back with a huff before retrieving the duffle from the floor and taking the backpack that hung from Morgan’s shoulder with a grin. “Thank the gods you’re so cute or I’d have to banish you too.”

Morgan smacked his ass as he walked away, and Aaron let out a small yelp in surprise.

“Anyway...” Morgan smirked after him before turning back to the others. “That offer is for all of you. What’s ours is yours. Nothing has changed in that regard. If you want to stay here in the Manor, there will always be a place for you.”

Percival, Gawain, Lancelot and Gwen all shared looks before Percival spoke with a smile, “There is no where I’d rather be.”

Gawain chewed his lip for a moment before meeting Morgan’s eyes. “Of course, I share Percival’s sentiment, my lord. I beg your forgiveness if I seem ungrateful. Some of the other soldiers and I are merely… struggling to accept this new world.”

“That’s perfectly understandable, Wain,” Aaron said from the hall, returning to embrace Morgan from behind, “Everyone in this room has been ripped from their home. Morgan is still adjusting after five years. Gwen was thrown into the thick of it and wasn’t even given the opportunity to talk about how hard it was until recently. Frey is locked out of Avalon and not only learning the human realm, but also how to behave human. And I... Well, I suppose I have it the easiest, don’t I, being able to remember both of my lives now?”

Morgan looked over his shoulder, inclining his head to bump Aaron’s softly. “You have your own kind of adjusting to do, baby.” He looked back to Gawain. “We’re here for you, Wain. For all of you. You can navigate this crazy city at whatever pace you’re comfortable with, and like we always have, we’ll manage. Together.”

Gawain and Percival nodded to them in earnest and Morgan saw the tension leave Gawain’s shoulders.

“Well...” Gwen cleared her throat. “You know the both of us are by your side no matter what, but Lance and I...” She turned to meet Lancelot’s eyes. “We’re going to stay at my place for now, I think.”

Aaron’s jaw dropped in disappointment. “Gwen... I was only joking. You know that right?”

She chuckled at him airily. “I know, Jones. I think we could use some time alone, though. At least for a bit. For him it was only hours that we were apart, but...”

Morgan immediately tensed at the reminder of what Gwen had endured these past years, and Aaron gripped him tighter, sensing his sudden shift.

“Gwen... I’m- I’m so sorry,” Morgan stammered.

She and Lancelot both shot him puzzled looks. “For what, honey?”

“For... for bringing you here like that. Tearing you away from Lance like that.”

She shook her head with closed eyes. “Don’t you apologize for that. That happened five years ago, Morgan. Just because you brought them here-”

“It was me.” Morgan frowned at the wooden floors. “I told you. Time is complex. I don’t know what I was expecting, unleashing like that, but... it was me. That intent to find him and protect him when I had failed... it brought you to him to save him when I couldn’t. I think that... if you hadn’t shown up in the alley that night...” He sunk back into Aaron, shaking the thoughts from his mind as Aaron kissed his cheek tenderly.

“Then my previous statement was inadequate,” Gwen said, “Morgan le Fay, don’t you dare even think about apologizing to me for that. I won’t hear another word in remorse over it again.”

Morgan’s eyes snapped up.

“You’re not the only one that loves him.” She smiled. “If that was the cost for doing my duty as a Knight of the Round Table, then it is gladly paid.”

House Fell gathered for a much-needed celebration that evening. Fairy lights dangled above the cozy space of the roof. Shane had set up a small, self-serve bar near the access door, and Daphne whipped together a playlist for dancing. The knights and soldiers were beginning to relax, partly because of Aaron and Morgan’s presence and partly because of their drinks. Theresa had insisted she could only make a short appearance due to all the work waiting for her on account of recent events, but she was still there, several cocktails in.

Aaron and Morgan mingled with their old comrades, discussing their plans for the days to come, and answering many questions regarding the modern era. The soldiers were struggling to drop their titles when speaking with them, but they knew it would take time. Percival and Lancelot rarely addressed them as such, while Gawain stubbornly clung to his sense of propriety. They had no problem treating them as equals, however. The Knights of the Round had always been that way with them, familiar and carefree, just how they wanted it.

The late afternoon sun painted the sky gold and pink as they chatted, drank and danced. One of the soldiers, a blonde woman with hazel eyes named Carys, was regaling them with the tale of the moment their band chose to break away from the battle at Camlann and rush into the rifts at the sound of Lance’s horn. So many of them had abandoned all hope on those grassy cliffs at the loss of their king, but these brave few had chosen to risk it all on nothing but a rallying cry from their next in command.

After an hour or so of making conversation, the two of them retreated for a sliver of private time. Although they could now communicate in their own secret way, there was something necessary in taking time-outs during these precious moments just for them. They sat on the parapet together, watching the sunset, laughing and flirting as they basked in their newfound hope for whatever tomorrow may bring.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Daphne joined them with a slightly buzzed grin, plopping onto the ledge. “So, this is our life now, huh? Vandalizing corporations, unearthing scandalous plots within the OC, debauchery, and-” She stared across the roof to find Shane flailing his arms to the music as if he had no bones. “Whatever the crap-didily-fuck my date is doing...”

They turned to look, and Morgan let out a baffled chuckle at the spectacle. “Please stop dancing like that, Shane! I don’t want them thinking that’s normal here!”

Shane pointed at Morgan with both hands and shot him a wink before bouncing over to join them at Daphne’s feet. “Hey, why aren’t we using the ballroom? Lots more room for dancing!”

“It’s, uh...” Morgan took a sip of his drink. “Under renovations.”

They all wore inquisitive looks at his vague response.

“Because?” Daphne pressed.

“Because...” Morgan set his glass down to throw his arms around Aaron and Daphne’s shoulders. “I plan on opening it for business.”

They raised their brows.

“Ooh! Like a nightclub? Please say a nightclub!” Daphne squealed.

Morgan nodded, retrieving his drink. “A nightclub, yes. I’ve already got a DJ in mind. There are spaces in every district for rent that we can use as spatial entry points so people aren’t fighting to use the elevator, and I have several connections that can get us some big names to come perform. We have a lot of mouths to feed now, and I want to give our new additions some work options other than the shit we do.”

Aaron leaned over to kiss his cheek. “It’s an awesome plan, babe.”

“Got a name picked out?” Daphne asked.

He shot Aaron a sideways grin. “I’m thinking... The Majesty.”

Aaron took a swig of his beer with a chuckle. “Never been one for honorifics, but I like it.”

“That’s a lot of renovations on top of adding space for all of our new- old friends to live,” Shane said, “I can pitch in if you need more hands, but, you know, the slow way. No magic.”

Morgan turned to Aaron with a sympathetic look. “Should we tell him?”

Aaron glanced at Shane, then back to Morgan. “We should tell him.”

Shane stared between them nervously. “Tell... tell me what?”

Morgan and Aaron spun around to the inside of the ledge.

“First of all, thank you. You saved the day, Shane.” Morgan gave Daphne a nod. “Both of you. You figured out how to stabilize Albion. You really did the damn thing.”

“Frey too!” Daphne shouted into the crowd, and Frey tore themself away from examining the material of the yellow sundress Theresa was wearing, “That clanking fuckwad did not see those needles coming!”

“Or anything afterwards!” Frey sang, coming to sit cross-legged on the ground nearby, “I liked when Gwen called him a... what was it?” They glanced over their shoulder at Gwen as she looked away from a conversation with the knights.

“Frankenfuck!” Percival howled, clutching his stomach as Frey nearly fell backward to the concrete in tears. “What a funny word… and that shot, Guinevere!”

“You were all incredible.” Aaron beamed at them. “Even when you thought we were lost to you, you pressed on.” He wrapped his arm around Morgan’s waist.

Glimmer slid out of a shadow in the corner, hopping the ledge to give Morgan’s elbow a nudge with her head. “You too, princess,” Morgan cooed, scratching under her chin.

“Oh, my gods, tell me the thing already!” Shane groaned indignantly, “I’m sweating over here!”

Everyone chuckled. “Firing that hex bullet to force Aaron back to his body...” Morgan leaned forward, staring into Shane’s eyes so that he knew he meant every word. “That was pure genius, Shane.”

Daphne nodded, ruffling his hair. Shane flushed. “Heh, never been accused of genius before.”

“But...” Aaron continued, “It shouldn’t have worked.”

Daphne and Shane traded confused glances. “What do you mean?” Daphne asked.

“Remember what I said about how runes work?” Morgan looked at them both and took another drink.

“Uh...” Shane stammered, “The rune is only an instruction, it still needs magic to perform its task.”

Morgan nodded emphatically, clapping him on the shoulder. “That’s how my bullets work, Shane. That’s my secret. A single rune of my own design. A very complex rune... for will.”

Shane stared at him, lost. Daphne leapt to her feet. “No! Shut up! No way!”

Shane’s eyes shifted from lost to looking like his head might explode. “I... I don’t have... I’m not a-”

“You do. You are.” Morgan gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Pretty damn powerful too. Not many witches can work a rune like that.”

“N-No!” Shane pulled back with hurt in his eyes as if he thought they might be playing a joke on him. “No! Magic is all I’ve ever wanted! My whole life I’ve dreamed of being a witch! You’re telling me it’s been there this whole time?”

Morgan nodded, his brow furrowing sadly. Daphne pulled Shane into a hug from behind. “Hey. You know Morgan wouldn’t make this up.”

“I would never do that, Shane. I know what it means to you.” Morgan shook his head. “As for why you haven’t been able to access it, it could be any number of reasons. But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“I-” Shane took a deep breath, standing. “I need another drink.”

Morgan sighed, staring after him. Aaron dropped his head to Morgan’s shoulder with a pat on his back as Daphne glanced between them and the direction Shane had gone.

“He’ll be okay,” Frey assured them, “He’s... a little angry, knowing his life could have been different. But under all that, there’s a strong happiness taking over.”

The knights had sidled closer to hear the conversation, and Gawain had his arms over his burly chest with a sour look on his face.

“Something on your mind, old friend?” Aaron asked.

“Your Majesty-”

“Wain…”

The man growled in his throat and shook his head, but then offered Aaron a smile. “My apologies… Aaron. Gods, I doubt I’ll ever get used to that. You see, we were discussing the battle and…”

“That man-” Percival continued, “Abernathy. He… knew far too much about you. About us as well.”

Aaron turned to Morgan, and Morgan closed his eyes with a nod.

“We think… he may have been possessed.” Aaron looked back to the knights. “Doctor Abernathy’s research led to an accident several years ago. Whatever happened drove him to madness in the end. Morgan and I, as Albion, sensed nothing but hatred and jealousy in him. The likes of which we haven’t seen since-”

“My brother…” Gawain said sullenly, staring at his feet.

“You knew?” Morgan asked, lowering his glass in surprise.

Gawain shook his head sadly. “I wasn’t certain. Those horrible things he said about you, however… I recall a day before he left Camelot when he dared utter the same to me. That was the last we spoke.”

“I’m sorry, Wain,” Aaron said, “I know how you held onto hope for him.”

Gawain huffed a derisive laugh. “Hope? For the man that would brag about killing my king? I was a na?ve fool.”

“He was your brother, Wain.” Morgan smiled encouragingly at him. “No one can blame you for trying to see the good in him.”

Aaron nodded in agreement before looking down, lost in thought.

“What is it, baby?” Morgan pushed into his shoulder.

“I’ve killed you twice already, Pendragon…” Aaron mused, staring at the bottle in his hand, “You know I never saw the soldier who attacked me that day. They ran me through from behind.”

“Agravaine’s style, to be sure.” Gawain scowled at the ground. “Coward.”

“Wait, I thought Mordred did that…” Shane had rejoined them, drink in hand and hovering nearby.

“What’s a... Mordred?” Percival raised a brow, looking from person to person for an answer. Their old friends had yet to even begin diving into everything the world thought it knew of them.

“Honey, do Morgan and Aaron look like a couple that could have had a child to you?” Gwen cocked her head to the side with a smirk.

“How should I know? Morgan can do anything! Maybe they did!” Shane scoffed.

Frey chuckled from the ground. “Magic baby!”

The mood had changed so abruptly that it gave Morgan whiplash. He laughed so hard his belly ached and Aaron had to hold him upright as he shook, also laughing. “Mordred is fiction! You’re all ridiculous!” He took another sip of his drink, still chuckling. “It had to be Agravaine. He left Camelot, what, three years before that day?”

Aaron nodded. “Threw his crest to the floor, told us he’d rip the kingdom apart stone by stone, stole the first horse he could find and rode east.”

“I almost feel sorry for Abernathy.” Morgan sighed. “I’ve never felt such resentment and jealousy. It would’ve driven anyone mad.”

Gawain nodded glumly. “Then I’m glad to know we thwarted him in the end, at least.”

“Hear, hear!” Percival yelled.

“Long live the King!” Lancelot shouted, raising his drink to the sky.

“Long live the King!” The entire crowd roared in unison from the roof.

Aaron chuckled through his nose, lowering his head and blushing in that beautiful way before raising his own drink, looking only at Morgan. “Kings.”

Ignoring the raised bottle in his hand, Morgan grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into a hungry kiss. Their friends cat-called and cheered at the display, which only urged them on, deepening the intensity of their lips on one another. When the commotion had gone on long enough, they pulled away with a flushed giggle.

“To House Fell!” Shane cried, raising his glass, “And to kicking some deranged, cyborg ass!”

“I’ll drink to that!” Gwen cheered.

Morgan lifted his glass to his lips with a smile, but his brow creased in thought. There would be more Agravaines and Abernathys, so long as Esotech was allowed to keep carrying on without anyone to keep them in check.

“Uh oh,” Daphne said, staring at him, “Morgan’s got that face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” he huffed over his glass.

“Nothing,” Aaron squeezed his thigh. “It’s the best face.”

“It has that look. The one that usually precedes trouble.” Daphne narrowed her eyes.

Morgan laughed, but his eyes turned serious. “We’re not finished yet. We still don’t know who took my memories, or who cursed Gwen. I don’t think it was coincidence that landed Aaron as Abernathy’s patient. Not only that but...” Morgan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Abernathy didn’t plant that bomb.”

“What?” Aaron’s eyes snapped up.

Morgan shook his head. “He said as much when he ambushed us up here. If he needed you alive, why create a scenario that might kill you?”

“Time for another manhunt already?” Shane looked excited at the notion.

“Nah.” Morgan chuckled. “For now, we play it safe. Mostly,” he added at the eye roll Daphne gave him, “They wanted to keep us apart... and they failed. They’ll tip their hand soon enough.”

Aaron set his bottle down and got to his feet, standing on the ledge. He turned away, gazing out over the city. His golden hair fluttered in the wind and his blue eyes glittered with soft fire, looking every bit the king that he was.

“Let them come.” He turned, smiling down at Morgan with an outstretched hand, pulling him up to stand at his side. He tucked his arm around Morgan’s back and held him close, staring deep into his eyes. “We forged a path all our own once before, fy cariad. You and I were so much less than we are now. All of us were. Yet we built something incredible, nonetheless. What happened here, the forces that reunited us, that was no accident. And now that we’re together again...” He looked back out across the city. “Nothing is going to stand in our way.”

Everyone on the rooftop drew close, as if witnesses to a proclamation. The setting sun kissed their faces with gentle warmth as Aaron’s certain tone filled them with hope and strength. In this world that Morgan had once despised, hiding away in his anger and darkness, light had finally arrived.

“You and me, my sweet boy...” Aaron squeezed his hand with a sideways glance to catch his adoring gaze. “Be it Camelot, or Etna City. Wherever this wild road you’ve paved for us leads—we rule.”

And from the lowest and darkest alley to the highest tower in the sky, from the glistening coast to the perilous wastes, a kingdom was reborn that day. All within its borders, and many beyond, would soon come to know that this place was protected. They would know that this place was loved, and they would know that it was ruled by those that were the very embodiment of love itself. This was Etna City.

This was home.