Epilogue - Darian

“Oh my dear Mother, that’s good.” My eyes practically roll back in my head.

Abdiel chuckles. “You like that, my King?”

A groan leaves my lips, muffled by the obstruction.

“Fucking delicious.” I’m salivating. I can’t chew fast enough.

“Alright, don’t choke,” Abdiel laughs harder. My eyes narrow in his direction while I lap flavor from my lips. “I only want to do that to you in our bedroom.”

My gaze darts left and right. The cafe is pretty empty at the moment, so I won’t scold him for talking dirty to me in public.

“I’m serious, my Prince.” I place the half-devoured pastry down on my plate. “This is amazing. You’re immensely skilled.”

His head tilts, and he gives me that adorable look of his. Like a curious puppy. He’s seriously the sweetest thing in existence. Even more so than this delicious blueberry custard-filled croissant thing he’s feeding me.

“Your praise is too kind, baby,” he whispers, teeth sinking into his plump lower lip as his forest irises twinkle.

Enough with the sex eyes, my gorgeous Prince, I squint at him. We’ve already christened the kitchen. I don’t think doing it on the tables is appropriate.

His head falls back in a cackle that warms my chest like the oven in the back.

“Sorry.” He grins, though he doesn’t sound in any way apologetic. “You’re right. I’ve got the waitstaff to think about.”

He nods just as Kinsey is scampering up to us with a large glass of what appears to be cider.

“Head Priest. I brought you some of the chilled honeycrisp cider,” she chirps, eyes flitting between me and my Prince. Also known as the Head Chef and owner of this fine establishment. “This one’s better cold.”

I accept the glass with a kind smile. “Mmm, yes. The one we had at the Harvest Festival was fantastic.”

She beams. “That was Abdiel’s special batch. Caramel apple hot cider. I’m surprised you even got a taste, it went so fast.”

“That it did.” I grin, taking Abdiel’s hand on the table. “Just like everything else you made that night, my talented Prince.”

His eyes gleam at me, and he bites his lip once more. His thoughts are bordering on perverse. It has me shifting in my seat.

Glancing up at Kinsey, I witness her cheeks flush as she turns and scurries back to the kitchen, apron billowing as she rushes away.

That one still crushes on you, baby, I tell him as my mouth quirks.

Abdiel rolls his eyes, though his smile is ever present. Mmm… Too bad I’ve been crushing on the man I’m not supposed to have for far too long.

“You have me now, sweet thing.” I absentmindedly trace his ring finger with my index. “Whether you’re supposed to or not.”

We sit for almost another hour while I finish the breakfast he’s made for me, making googly eyes at each other from across the table at his restaurant.

The White Snake was a turning point for The Principality, in many ways. It gave Abdiel his purpose, which was the most important thing to us.

Drake and I have had ours for many years. As does the rest of the Regnum. Even my ex-wives found their new places, rather quickly.

But my Prince needed something to fulfill him, outside of our love. He is a natural-born servant, and it’s something he lives for. To make others happy. Now he gets to do it with his cooking, honing his leadership skills more and more each day that he works in this lovely cafe.

I won’t lie, I miss having him as a Domestic. I miss seeing him every day, mulling around the house, sneaking glances and tiptoeing around his true feelings. But now when I see him at dinner, he’s by my side. As is Drake, every night, not just on rare occasion. And we adjourn to the bedroom we share at night, the three of us together, in the most unexpected turn of events… A polyamorous thruple. Two brothers and their servant…

A lion, a snake, and a mouse.

It makes me chuckle.

They each have their own bedrooms in the Den, because we all acknowledge our individual needs for solitude, though it’s very different from what I used to consider a need back in the lounge. But they, Abdiel mostly, tend to stay primarily in our bedroom. Worshipping me with their love, which is so vibrant, it turns any previously dulled sensations into a spectrum of color.

And we still use the lounge… though solitude cannot possibly be had in a room where three men physically latch onto each other in ways so illustrious it makes me hard just thinking about it.

When I finally leave Abdiel to his work, I head out on my rounds, sauntering about the Expanse. I check in on a few lessons happening with the kids, who are learning various things, from math to reading and spelling. And in the higher classes, they’re bisecting frogs for biology.

It’s moments like these when I sit in fascination for a moment, marveling at all that Drake and I have made here.

There’s nothing quite like building something from the ground up. Nourishing it over time and developing it into a vast creation.

After that, I go to the fields and observe the farmers. Harvest was over a month ago, but that doesn’t mean the work simply stops. They”re still working diligently on processing our yields, preserving what needs to be stored for winter. Which brings me next to the base of the mountain.

The Field of Influence.

Weaving in between the rows of harvested plants, I watch the Tribe. They’re training a few yards up, taking lessons of their own. Defense is the name of their game. It gives me a tingle of excitement, seeing all the newly recruited faces.

We’re more heavily protected than ever. Good.

As I wander up past the lab, I find my mind drifting to Rhiannon. It happens, actually quite often. I think of her a lot…

What we would have become, if it had been in the cards. But I suppose it wasn’t.

I like to think that in some other realm she’s still with us. That we’ve become a sort of quartuple, if that’s even a word. We could make it one.

She would head up business with Lauris, helping Drake so that he doesn’t need to take on the world by himself anymore. It’s something we’ve all given into, after that brilliant, yet tragic, night we experienced up in the clearing.

I imagine that Rhiannon would have been someone I could talk to, relate to in our shared painful pasts. But in her memory, I’ve started weekly therapy sessions for fellow survivors, of any kinds of abuse. Many of the Regnum have joined me. We talk about anything and everything, really. Our feelings, our pasts, whatever is on our minds. It’s been massively helpful, and I have the Princess to thank for that.

Continuing the journey up the mountain, my thoughts walk by my side. And as soon as I’m far enough away from everyone else, I allow myself to think about my plan… The one that sends my heart jumping wildly behind my ribs.

I’m going to ask Abdiel and Drake to marry me.

It’s an exciting notion, one I’m having for the first time, despite already having done this before.

But when I married my five ex-wives, I wasn’t excited. It was just something I did because I felt backed into a corner. It was nothing like the swarm of butterflies flitting through my esophagus I get when thinking about getting down on bended knee for the two most important people in my life.

We’ve been talking about the future a lot lately. Planning has always been a part of The Principality, and while divorcing the wives and going public with my new relationship lessened the question of an heir for a few weeks, no one has simply forgotten about the topic.

Honestly, neither have I. It’s something I think about often.

What could it mean…?

Rhiannon would have birthed an heir to The Principality. I know she would have. Of course, it wouldn’t have been my child, genetically, but Drake’s or Abdiel’s.

I believe Mother sent us Rhiannon for that purpose. But then She took her away… What could that mean?

Does it mean we’re not meant to birth a natural heir? Or will there be some other girl who will help it happen?

For the time being, Abdiel will take over The Principality when Drake or I pass, since he’s much younger, and will hopefully be around for a long time.

I shiver. I don’t even want to think about what life would look like without my Prince.

Alas, after that, I suppose we’ll let Mother decide. She will lead us in the right direction for the great plan of this reality.

Proposing to my men is my main concern now, though I haven’t decided exactly when to do it. I was thinking maybe after the first snowfall, which could be in as early as a few weeks. I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces…

Thoughts slice into my own, and I immediately thwart my excitement, silencing my ideas as I approach the cabin. I can hear Drake as I move closer, which means he can definitely hear me, and I don’t want him to know what I’m scheming.

It’s hugely difficult to surprise your partners when they can both read your mind.

But even with Empyrean… even with the ultimate openness we share, there are things I’ve managed to keep to myself.

Outside the former cabin, I take a look around. The greenhouse has been expanded, and peering in through the glass, I see all the colors of Drake’s handiwork. Greens of varying shades, flora and fauna, life sprouting from each direction. It’s miraculous, and my sudden need to see the inside overcomes me.

Heading to the cabin door, I knock and let myself in, instantly hit with the intoxicating aroma of plants. Drake turned his old home into a protected terrarium of sorts, the entire inside filled with all his most prized possessions. His hybrids, all over the place, surrounded by warming lamps, each tank, pot, and case labeled meticulously with names, kingdoms, and species, chemical equations everywhere.

He still has his shelves set up with hundreds of books, and several whiteboards he uses for math I wouldn’t even begin to comprehend.

My brother, my lover, my Serpent… The stone-cold genius.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” his deep voice murmurs at me, and I spin to find him transplanting something, his fingers digging into the dirt as he massages a new life into it.

“Figured I’d come check you out.” I saunter up to him. “Making my rounds and all.”

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I press my chest into his back, peering over his shoulder while he works. The sense of calm at being next to him is immediate, though our pulses both pick up, thoughts whirling through all the love we share.

“You’ve never been able to keep from checking me out,” he rumbles, and I chuckle into him, teasing the nape of his neck with my lips. He hums, “Distractions, my King.”

“I love distracting you,” I whisper, my erection hardening in an instant from just being close like this. From listening to him and smelling him… Feeling him, in every single sense possible.

He stops what he’s doing, brushing the dirt off his hands before twirling in my arms, zipping our fronts together as his hands go for my throat.

“Maybe it’s time for a break.” He smirks, eyelids drooping as he leans in and presses an unbearably soft kiss on my mouth.

“That sounds… so good,” I growl between his lips, and drop to my knees, peering up at him from the floor.

“There is no sight quite like having a King on his knees,” Drake hisses as I open his pants, his fingers sifting through my hair.

I lick my lips. This is something I can only ever do with Drake… Remember.

I can recall a time when I wasn’t a King. When I wasn’t the Head Priest of The Principality.

When I was just a man named Darian. A lost boy in the woods, fumbling through pain and pleasure with the other piece of his soul.

And for all the infinite love I possess for what we’ve built, and our relationship with Abdiel that finally feels like home for the first time in ever, Drake and I hold each other’s worlds in our hands.

Hours later, we’re curled up on the floor by the fireplace. It’s not lit, yet there’s enough heat coming from our recently sated bodies that we can lie here naked and not even feel the nip of fall from just outside these walls.

Drake reaches for his pants, pulling a joint from his pocket. He lights it while my head rests over his heart, listening to the steady beat, which has calmed significantly from the loud banging it was doing while he was losing himself deep in my body.

“You should’ve kept a bed in this place,” I grunt at the stiffness in my hip from lying on the wood floor. Still, I would never want to move. I’m at peace.

“I have one,” he says on an exhale of pungent smoke. “We just didn’t make it that far.”

I chuckle, and he does the same, flipping the lid of his lighter over and over.

The sound is familiar, and when I glance at it, I recognize it well as the Zippo he always carries around, with the worn American flag on it.

It was Dan’s. And it never occurred to me until after I’d found out the truth about what he did to our former foster father why he had it. I’d always just assumed he’d stolen it from Dan, like he used to steal money, cigarettes, and booze from him.

But it was more like a parting gift. A trophy; a talisman. A symbol of Drake’s victory over that monstrous piece of shit, and the vengeance he gave me like restitution.

Taking the lighter from Drake, I hold it in my hand, thumb brushing over the worn face. There’s pain inside me from the memories it holds; that will never go away. But the acceptance I feel, the renewed truth in every step that led me to right where I am, is the ultimate rebirth.

Ecdysis.

“I love you, snake eyes,” I whisper to him, shifting to watch his gaze with my mouth hovering over his.

“I love you, King Darian.” He presses his lips to mine, and we both hum.

“Always?”

“Infinitely always.”

When I eventually detach from the lustful hold of my Serpent, I head back out into the forest. The sun has since set and darkness surrounds me as I climb the mountain.

It’s calling to me.

And I must listen.

The walk from Drake’s cabin isn’t that long. Not when your feet glide you in the direction you’re needed, as if magnetized to a track just beneath the forest floor.

I barely even remember walking, the daze in me strong as it pulls me closer and closer. Between the trees I march, quiet and calm, the smell of my lover lingering on my skin, keeping me high as I reach the clearing.

And when I see it, it grips me; the empty space settled within a circle of tall trees.

My steps bring me into it, the crunch of leaves and pine needles beneath my boots the only inclination that someone is here.

My breathing goes shallow as I fall to my knees. Right in the center. Memories flood my mind, from the night months ago.

The sacrifice.

Rolling onto my back, I lie, with my arms at my sides, gaze on the starry night’s sky where it peeks through the trees, which become barren in the change of seasons.

With each thump of my heart, I’m pushed deeper and deeper into the ground.

My fingers sink into the dirt, feeling the pulse of the earth on their tips. Sucking in a long pull of oxygen, my eyes droop shut.

And I’m swallowed into the abyss.

Behind my eyes, I can see myself. Like a mirrored reflection. I’m watching myself where the forces hold me. On a bridge between two places.

A pop of color appears, out of place at this time of year. Green, vibrant and new, crawls up my arm.

Vines grow over my flesh, taking over my arms. Flowers bloom on my skin. The musky floral scent surrounding me, emanating.

My breathing is one with Mother, the space, the infinite call of the clearing oozing from my pores, where it’s housed deep inside me.

Inside of my soul.

And when my eyes fling open, the irises are black.

Stark, bottomless obsidian. Shiny and out of place, layered sediment of sheer evil and pure good.

We are balanced…

For the rock is me.

I am the rock.

we are the end.