Feb. 18th, 2008 01:12 pm
Longest Battle 8/8
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lovely_ambitionWell, here we are with 50,000+ words, a hell of an adventure, and thank you to everyone who read. Your comments meant the world to me. Because I'm a sucker and can't bear to let it go, there is an offer for more within this 'verse at the end. I hope everyone enjoyed the ride as much as I did.
The Longest Battle 8/8
Pairing: Ambrose/Cain, Jeb/Azkadellia
Disclaimer: I do not own them at all.
Summary: The Witch won't rest until she has the O.Z. in darkness, no matter how she must do it, no matter how long it takes.
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: This acts as an AU to the entire Tin Man series and hinges on just one question: "What if DG hadn't let go?" Fifteen annuals pass and while some things may remain the same, many is different. EXTREME thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
blackletter for being a wonderful & efficient beta. Well, here we are, close to the end.
CHAPTER ONE: In which DG holds on, Zero takes matters into his own hands, Adora Cain is a casualty, Ambrose is given a lifetime of glitches, and Jeb Cain gets into Ambrose's bed before his father does.
CHAPTER TWO: In which the search for the Mystic Man begins, Cain makes failed attempts at bonding, Jeb hides well, and a tentative agreement is made between Ambrose and Cain.
CHAPTER THREE: In which Ambrose reveals why he hates Zero so much, it's Jeb's and then Wyatt's birthday, and Cain finds out that you can never have too much heart.
CHAPTER FOUR: In which Cain and Ambrose are exiled, they meet a Viewer named Raw who can feel the O.Z., Ambrose has to face the facts, and mobats have a nasty bite.
CHAPTER FIVE: In which Cain heals from wounds rendered, Jeb admits he doesn't know Ambrose, Zero makes a house-call, and Ambrose informs Cain that he and Jeb are moving back to the palace.
CHAPTER SIX: In which Cain and Ambrose adjust to not being alone, the Royal Family finds out, and Azkadellia is taken from under their noses.
CHAPTER SEVEN: In which our intrepid heroes take on the Witch.
“Poor thing,” Ambrose murmured quietly, sitting on the edge of Azkadellia’s bed.
They had stopped on their way back to the palace to consult with whatever healers the town had. Eventually, a Viewer by the name of Lylo was brought to them to heal the deeply burned flesh of Azkadellia’s fingers. He couldn’t heal them completely and said that she would have the pink scars for the rest of her life. They had let her to rest in one of the beds in the room they had rented, halfway between the palace and the caves.
Cain hadn’t stopped moving and Ambrose was beginning to become very suspicious as to when Cain was sleeping. He had assumed that the man caught rest while they all did, but now that the threat was gone and they could relax, he’d begun to notice the dark bags under his Cain’s eyes – Ambrose had experienced a lengthy self-debate as to whether Cain was a lover or a boyfriend or something else. In the end, he had decided Cain was his and left it at that.
“She’s alive,” Cain offered, soaking several pieces of dirty clothing in the basin that lay in the corner of the room. “We’re all alive, which is more than we expected.”
“Imagine,” Ambrose murmured lightly, keeping a hand atop Azkadellia’s to keep her company in her deepest rest. “Having a scar like that to accompany you through your days and always remind you of what you’ve done?”
Cain glanced back at him over his shoulder and in the natural light of the room, Ambrose could see every inch of exhaustion on his face. He had one other theory and that was that Cain hadn’t been sleeping at all. They had been out on the paths for days now and Cain looked like he had aged ten annuals in that time.
“We all have our scars, Ambrose,” Cain mumbled. “Just can’t see them all on the surface.”
Outside, the town they had stopped in was singing joyously and the sounds of music were everywhere. People had begun to hear the word that the Witch was dead and there would be no more nightmares, no more living in fear. People felt safe. Ambrose would be happy to indulge in the same feeling, just as soon as he could feel again. He still felt hollow and worried for Azkadellia, not to mention the neverending concern for Cain.
He squeezed the Princess’ hand before rising to his feet and crossing the room to close the window (in order to shut out the noise) and to wrap his arms around Cain’s waist from behind.
It was partly to support the other man, who looked ready to collapse. It was partly because Ambrose needed the physical contact.
“Cain, remind yourself, who’s the smartest man in this room?”
“I’m not in the mood for your ego, Ambrose,” Cain warned tiredly.
“I just wanted you to know that you’re not fooling anyone with the stoic routine,” Ambrose said, giving him a light pat against his abdomen. “Sleep. There’s no nightmare to run from.” And there was a second bed, procured at their request when they had arrived at the desk downstairs. They had all the time in the world to inch their way back home amongst parades and proclamations of joy. Ambrose could feel Cain relaxing into his arms to the point that he worried that he might become dead weight at any moment.
As lithe and strong as Ambrose was, he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to do anything more than drag Cain to the bed.
“You’re coming with,” Cain said, in a ‘no arguments’ tone.
Heavens forbid Ambrose would ever actually deny that request.
It was two days before any of them were willing to get out of bed and when they sat up on the second day, Azkadellia glanced over in a groggy haze to look at a sleeping Cain and Ambrose, who smiled back at her.
“You did very well, Princess,” Ambrose praised, his palm turned down and resting atop Cain’s heart as the other man slept fitfully, snoring occasionally while tossing and turning. Ambrose had managed to corral him into his arms and the blankets lay a mess around them. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I am,” she agreed, but lay herself down. They didn’t have to leave just yet.
*
It had taken a great deal of time for them to bring the Mystic Man back around to a glimmer of his former self, but Cain had been determined to get him restored to the man of great legend that he was. He had spent great spans of his time in counsel with the man (since the Witch had been defeated), trying to slowly pry him off of the Vapours, once and for all.
Five weeks after Cain had started his daily visits, he’d finally gotten something resembling an answer from the man who used to be able to field any and all questions.
“Do you know who I am?” he had asked.
“I’d never forget you, Wyatt Cain.”
It was sensible and shrewd at once and Cain’s lips split apart with a broad grin and he couldn’t help the loud chuckle that escaped him. Gods, he couldn’t stop laughing for what felt like hours the way he was going, his shoulders trembling with the force of his joy. He clapped a hand on the Mystic Man’s shoulder as he sank into a chair and let an exhalation sound his relief and exhaustion at the life he had been living.
He let his gaze drift to the Mystic Man. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Tell me, Cain. Just how long have I been like...this?”
“I wouldn’t look in a mirror, if I were you.”
“Avoiding a difficult question. You haven’t changed so much since you were one of mine.”
“I never stopped being your guy,” Cain promised him. “Even if I didn’t do so well by you for a lot of annuals, I was always trying.” He was probably going off the deep end with his persistent pleading, that he hadn’t just given up on a man who had given him the chance to be a protector and defend all the things that he wanted to in life. “Things have changed a lot.”
“Am I to guess?”
“Adora is dead,” Cain confessed, the words sounding empty and hollow so many annuals later. Sometime ago in his past, Cain had put the pain of her death in a box and locked it up as tightly as possible – that way, it couldn’t come back to hurt him and steal all his words and feelings. “Zero killed her before locking me away and then he got to you.” The words were hushed and tinged with nothing but the utmost of respect. “I met someone in the search for you, someone named Ambrose.”
“Yes, I know the man. Advisor to the Queen,” the Mystic Man chuckled to himself. “Quite a character when you get down to it. Slightly obsessed with his work, but there’s a piece of gossip here and there worth listening to.”
Cain had gone somewhat pink during the Mystic Man’s words.
“Cain?”
“I’m what you might call ‘dating’ him,” he offered evenly. It wasn’t news to anyone in the O.Z., but the Mystic Man hadn’t been up to current events so much as he was trying to put the pieces of his brain back into an order that made sense. Cain wasn’t even sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, so when the Mystic Man merely arched an eyebrow and said nothing, Cain felt a slight assault of determination to ferret out why that reaction, of all things. “What?”
“The heart isn’t a straightforward thing, Cain. You’d think that there would be an answer, that A plus B equals C rather than a complex set of equations that prove to be difficult to understand and even more difficult to postulate.”
Cain had always hated when the Mystic Man got going about the universe. He never had a chance of understanding it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to drag Ambrose down into the room to translate for him.
“My point being that with your wife gone, gods rest her soul, it’s as difficult to predict who you might have found in her place as it would be to determine what the weather would be for the next annual.”
Cain was listening. He wasn’t sure he was appreciating the comments, but he was determined to listen as best as he could.
“So what do you think of Ambrose?” Cain offered, figuring they should at least move onto the topic now that he wasn’t being blasted with guilt over how he could possibly move on after Adora, even though it had nearly been thirteen annuals since he had buried his wife in the cold and wet ground.
“A good man,” the Mystic Man pronounced loudly, still smiling that knowing glimmer of a thing on his face. “A smart man. Occasionally, he saw fit to challenge my intelligence with his own. I suppose it would take a man like him to tame one like you.”
“No one’s tamed anyone, here,” Cain warned in a low voice.
“Oh, no, of course not. I’m sure you’ve not changed an inch for him.”
Cain couldn’t bring himself to care much about what the Mystic Man was implying because he was able to make those kinds of accusations and for days after, he was still making those verbal assaults against Cain. If it meant that he had to endure a little bit of ribbing about his love life and the life his son had become accustomed to, then Cain would take it all and more in exchange for the fact that the Mystic Man was once again the same great wizard of thoughts that he had once been.
Weeks later, he was back to Central City to hold counsel with anyone who needed it.
Ambrose had commented on the article in the paper at breakfast one morning while Cain poked through a bowl of apples to find the reddest, juiciest one the palace had to bring over to Ambrose for his approval. Truth be told, Ambrose had been commenting on everything that came that morning, from the letters (“Oh, incidentally, Raw says thank you for the invitation, but he wants to stay where he is. Apparently, he has a son now! I told him we’d visit when I wrote back and promised to not even bring bad vibes”) to the Queen’s notes (“She’s receiving endless requests for us and the Princess to make appearances. She doesn’t think she can deny them much longer”) to the articles in the newspaper.
“The Mystic Man Returns To Hold Court,” Ambrose read aloud. “Thanks to you,” he added casually, picking at a plate’s worth of prepared food sent up from the kitchen. Cain never had much of a stomach for the fancy stuff the others could pack down and usually stayed with something simple like fruit in the morning. “Honestly, Cain, one day, you need to let me sit you down and have the Queen give you the Knighted honours already.”
“Don’t you dare, sweetheart,” Cain warned, tossing a perfect red apple back towards the table. Ambrose caught it easily, chomping into the fruit as he flipped through the Central Gazette idly, going back when an article caught his eye now and then. “I’m happy with what I am.”
“A hero with a boy scout syndrome?” Ambrose suggested sarcastically, accepting Cain’s kiss when the Tin Man came to sit down beside him and steal the paper. Cain was thinking about going in for a second kiss, but the boy scout part had put him off it, so he just stole the paper and settled in with the task of peeling an orange with his nails, deliberately ignoring Ambrose all the while.
They sat in silence for a great while before either of them found cause to speak.
“Did you ask the Mystic Man anything?” Ambrose hinted at curiously. Cain could tell from practiced knowledge of the man that he was trying not to sound too invested, but cared desperately about the answer.
“I did.”
“And?”
“I asked him about you.”
Cain suppressed the pleased and smug smile from his face when he could see Ambrose squirming out of the corner of his eye, just dying to ask more on that subject. Cain wasn’t about to say a word, but he enjoyed making Ambrose move like that.
After five minutes, Cain took pity on the other man. “I asked what he thought about you.”
“And, Cain? What did he say!” Ambrose nearly spat out nervously.
“He said you tamed me.”
“Well, I am good with a whip and a chair...”
“Down, boy,” Cain said in a wry, bemused tone. Ambrose laughed quietly and Cain smiled to himself as he turned back the pages to read the details of the article on the Mystic Man and to let himself feel content in knowing that he had finally done something that was going to benefit all of the O.Z. and not just the family he had made for himself.
*
There was an old tree on the palace grounds that Ambrose had once claimed for his own. He kept a small garden there of herbs, rare hybrid flowers he had created, and new types of fruit he was trying to cultivate. In the spring, the tree blossomed with brilliant pink flowers the colour of the sky at sunsrise. A full annual after the Witch had fallen, Ambrose found DG there, playing with several of the blossoms and twirling them in the air. Seventeen annuals now, she was ready to jump headfirst into the world and do what she wanted. ‘You get that from your mother,’ Ambrose had commented, to a shrug of indifference from the younger Princess.
DG looked contemplative today as she twirled the flowers back and forth with her magic while Ambrose approached, kneeling with reverence.
“My Princess.”
“Ambrose,” DG pleaded, yanking his hands so he would get off his knee. “I told you not to do that to me. It makes me feel creepy or something.” So instead of kneeling before her, he sat down on a gnarled branch, glancing over at DG as she spun more and more blossoms with her magic. “Is it really over?” she asked, eyes up on the flowers.
“That’s what I keep hearing,” Ambrose agreed, rubbing the back of his head. The medic had said that he would still have issues that would probably compound as he grew older, but Cain had just took his hand when he’d relayed the news and promised to keep an eye out for him. “No more nightmares, no more scorching of the O.Z., no more rebellion.”
“But Jeb and Mr. Cain are staying,” she asked, looking at him as if she could detect whether he was lying or not, just using her eyes. “Right? I mean, they wouldn’t leave just because the Witch is dead.”
That had been put into song as if the whole O.Z. needed to rejoice this simple victory that happened between four people in a dark cave to the South.
“Cain is here to stay,” Ambrose could promise that much. “Jeb, I can’t promise he won’t want to go off to pursue higher education when he turns eighteen, just as you have the choice and Azkadellia did as well.” He wondered sometimes if DG and Jeb would do what Azkadellia did not, if they would embrace education and read the endless shelves of books that had been Ambrose’s only friend for so many annuals.
“I think Jeb is in love with Az,” DG opined, displaying the keen observational skills that Ambrose had always known her to have. “He gets weird around her. Like…stupid weird.”
“And you haven’t found your own boy to be stupid-weird around?” Ambrose couldn’t help but tease.
“Boys are gross,” DG scoffed in that overly defensive way she had about her when she was trying to mask something, which made Ambrose wonder just which boy had waltzed into the palace and caught the Princess’ eye. Ambrose hoped he was more than good enough or else he would have to take measures to root him out of DG’s life and he was sure that Ahamo and Cain would be all-too-willing to help (along with Azkadellia, who would do her own silent part when her mother’s back was turned).
“I don’t know, some of them turn out fine,” Ambrose said lightly, still in a light and teasing mood. “I can personally vouch for the Cain genetics.”
“Yeah, but Cain isn’t Jeb,” DG said, as if that made all the sense in the world.
Ambrose had always wondered what DG thought of him and Cain for their relationship and whether she condoned. All the outward signs obviously pointed towards her not caring, but he had never been able to officially ask and DG’s opinion meant the world to him.
“Do you think he’s right for me?” Ambrose couldn’t help but ask, now that the most pressing problem on the Royal Agenda was whether they would travel South or North for their next vacation (when Ambrose had brought it up to Cain, the other man had tipped his hat down over his face and mumbled ‘anywhere you are works for me’).
“I think you two are great together,” DG praised warmly. “You go good together. Like…complements,” she said carefully. “Is that right? Tutor taught me the word.”
She didn’t know it, but that was the kindest thing DG could have ever said to him.
*
The first time Cain saw Ambrose dance was thirteen annuals after he had first met the man. Some people might say that that was an eternity to wait, but Cain needed the time to properly distance the idea of dancing from Adora. It was Jeb’s sixteenth birthday and the Queen had insisted upon a ball for his sake. Jeb had quickly agreed on the condition that Azkadellia would be there.
Cain might have winced for his son’s obvious crush on the older Princess, but his son was genuinely happy, so Cain couldn’t really find it in him to be too embarrassed.
As for him and Ambrose, things were going better than he could have ever hoped with only some mild exceptions.
This would be one of them.
The Queen had put together a masked little thing, dressing the Cains in the best wear in the O.Z. and masking them as well before sending them off to enjoy the night. While Jeb was tolerating it very politely, Cain kept fidgeting with the material and making subversive and simple comments about the fabric being too itchy and the pants too tight. Ambrose had abandoned him at one point, muttering ‘if all you’re going to do is complain, I’m not going to sit and listen to it’.
So Ambrose had gone out there to dance and for the first time since they’d met, Cain got to see just how much rhythm was in his soul, like he always professed.
He danced with men with brilliant red hair and men who had striking green eyes. He dipped and twirled around the dance floor to tangos and waltzes and came back to the table for a drink with his cheeks flushed with pink and his eyes on other men. Cain wasn’t a jealous man by nature. He knew that there were certain things that couldn’t be changed and some things, you just accepted. What Ambrose was doing wasn’t exactly riling him, but it did raise questions.
Eventually, Cain didn’t want to stay, not even for Jeb’s sake, when his eyes caught Ambrose in a slow twist around the floor with a high placed Royal Cousin to the sounds of violins playing. He lifted from his seat at the head of the table and wandered over to Jeb on the dance floor, clasping a hand on his shoulder.
He turned to look at his father through the white and gold mask on his face. “Father,” he greeted in surprise. Cain peered over Jeb’s shoulder to find DG standing there with a brilliant blue mask to go with her eyes. She waved pleasantly and Cain gave her a nod in return. “Is everything all right?”
“Just fine,” Cain promised, sounding disgruntled. “I need to get out of these clothes though,” he admitted. Say what you would about Cain’s limits of patience, but dressing up like a clown for the night was definitely outside of the bounds.
He afforded one last look at Ambrose, whose fingers were stroking the hip of that same Cousin, that…Stefan or Sven or whatever his name was. Cain might not be jealous, but he wasn’t about to sit around and pine over the fact that his semi-somewhat-very-much-boyfriend was feeling up other people.
He pried the mask off and rubbed at the back of his neck as he wandered into the hall just outside the main room, hearing the music playing and feeling like Adora was watching him from somewhere just out of sight. He tipped his head to the ceiling, as if expecting to find some ethereal vision there, but all he saw was the chandelier.
“Cain?”
That was Ambrose’s voice with a loud burst of music. It looked like a search party was about to be deployed. He turned to find Ambrose wandering out.
“I thought that was you. I looked for you, but couldn’t find you. Well, after I couldn’t remember you,” he said, bluntly. “But then I stopped glitching and couldn’t find you. Too much of a party for you?”
Cain rubbed his thumb over his temple, debating whether he wanted to even bring it up. It wasn’t like he planned on tying Ambrose down or that he’d ever forbid him from doing anything, but that was the difference between them. Cain only wanted one person to devote his heart to and Ambrose seemed willing to wander.
“Couldn’t help but notice you out there on the dance floor,” Cain remarked evenly. “With just about every attractive man at the party.”
“Well, of course,” Ambrose said defensively.
“Of course?”
“You don’t dance. What else was I supposed to do?”
Cain couldn’t help that he looked like a confused deer stuck in headlamps. He was wondering just when it was that he’d jumped onto the losing side of this battle, seeing as he was fairly sure that he had the right to be defensive and less than pleased, but Ambrose was turning this right around, what with the whole ‘not dancing’ part.
“It didn’t mean anything,” Ambrose pointed out, slowly sidling up to Cain to draw him back towards the room, Cain’s hands in Ambrose’s. “It was just something to pass the time. You don’t dance. I don’t sit in corners when I don’t have to. If the ladies are going to treat me like a wallflower, then I’ll just let the men take me around the dance floor.”
Cain was still too far gone and speechless to be able to reply.
“I bet, though,” Ambrose continued talking with a sly and coquettish tone, almost whispering, “that I can change your mind about dancing.”
“I don’t hate dancing, Ambrose,” Cain pointed out, letting the other man slowly tug him back into the grand room. “In fact, I never said I did. I dance, but you just never thought to ask me.”
He tugged his hands away from Ambrose and gave him a pointed look. He felt like he had the upper hand again, at least. It felt good to be smug, even for a brief moment, but he let Ambrose take his hands again to take him back into the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ambrose asked, sounding quietly hurt. “I’ve known you for thirteen annuals and you never mentioned that.”
“Dancing reminded me of Adora.”
There. And he’d used the past tense too so Ambrose and his giant brain could understand that Cain was finally feeling like he could step out from that shadow and try again. Ambrose seemed to get it because he started to slowly smile and dragged Cain out onto the dance floor to keep him close.
“Start fresh,” Ambrose encouraged, hand on Cain’s hip as he turned them into the first steps of a lively dance. “Then I won’t have to go hunt down pretty nobles to be my dance partner.”
And just like that, Cain had been tripped onto the losing side again.
Funny that he didn’t mind it so much.
*
The annuals drew onwards without fail, bringing them all to new points in their lives. Now that Jeb was more than eighteen annuals, Azkadellia no longer ignored the lingering looks and even went so far as to say ‘yes’ after one of his endless demands for dinner with her, just the both of them where no one could interrupt. Cain didn’t really know what to think of his son and the Princess of the O.Z., the one in line for the throne. After all, what did it mean if things did work out and one day, Jeb was sitting there on that throne beside her?
Father-in-law to the Queen of the O.Z. wasn’t exactly an occupation that Cain had ever thought he’d hold. He was getting ahead of himself, though. It was just innocent little dates and it could all end up in a big fit about nothing.
He had been leaning over the stone balconies of the palace, waiting for Ambrose to get himself up from the lab to join him. The double eclipse was finally there and after so much hype from the cities and villages around, Cain wanted to at least spend the time with the person that, outside Jeb, he cared for most in the O.Z.
Half of him expected Ambrose to forget about their date completely, but the sound of the door sliding shut gave Cain cause to smile.
“Sorry, I had to give orders before I left,” Ambrose apologized gently. “You know how the new boys around here are,” he added wryly. “Have to tell them three times to even listen.” He mimicked Cain’s positioning as he leaned forward, his left hand brushing over Cain’s forearm to take hold of his right hand, leaning there with his eyes canted to the sky. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything, though.” He sounded slightly nervous to Cain’s well-trained ear, but he dismissed it as the fact that they hadn’t found time to just have a quiet date in weeks.
Cain let silence wash over them as the suns disappeared completely and the land was swathed in darkness. He knew he wasn’t supposed to look, but he couldn’t help peeking. He’d endure the lecture later from Ambrose.
“Cain,” Ambrose spoke, his voice distant.
Well, a little earlier than expected, but here it came…
“Yeah, Ambrose?”
“Will you marry me?”
When Cain looked down, his vision was still spotty from staring right up into the eclipse and so he saw little pieces of Ambrose’s face instead of the whole thing – an eye there, a small pock of a mark there, and just the corner of his lips.
What Cain said next was entirely a knee-jerk response. Emphasis, of course, on the jerk part. “Why?”
“Because it’s what people do when they’ve been together as long as we have,” Ambrose remarked logically. “Because it would make what we have a little more sanctioned in the eyes of an O.Z. who enjoys their gossip about as much as they enjoy their peace. And because I love you.”
Cain had proposed to Adora a very long time ago, getting down on one knee and ruining a perfectly good pair of pants in the process. He had presented her a simple ring, all that he could afford. He hadn’t been much more than nineteen annuals when he’d decided that she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with.
He didn’t expect to be proposed to in his life, especially not by the Queen’s Advisor on a balcony while he held Cain’s hand and the double eclipse happened above them.
They stood there in silence until the suns came back out from their shadow.
“You haven’t answered me,” Ambrose pointed out lightly.
“I need more time to think.”
Yes. No. Maybe. There were all of Cain’s options laid out for him. From a logical standpoint, he knew that he loved Ambrose and they’d been together a long time and had even been friends before that. Cain couldn’t stop the stubborn persistence of thought though, that Ambrose was a man (obviously) and Cain didn’t know if he was ready to up and marry someone again.
He still wore his wedding ring, the one Adora had kissed every night while they lay in bed together.
“Give me a week,” Cain bartered. “I need time, considering this affects the rest of my life.”
“No.”
Cain withdrew away from Ambrose and gave him a sharp look. “No?”
“No, Cain, you don’t need a week,” Ambrose pointed out impatiently and with a loud huff. “There are two options. One involves you spending your life with me. One doesn’t. It really is as simple as that and considering the myriad of complicated things you and I have seen in our lives, this is nothing!” he continued, cheeks slightly red from the exertion of his verbal argument. “If you absolutely need the justification, then just think of it that way. Wyatt Cain, do you want to spend the rest of your life with me and only me?” he rephrased it, looking dashed, like Cain had already said no.
He wore a ring for a woman who lived only in his memory and in Jeb’s. He lived in a palace under the watchful eye of a Queen and her King and two daughters, girls that Cain would rip apart the O.Z. to protect. He didn’t have a simple home any longer, no wooden walls to keep the world at bay. He had a family and a man who loved him.
Did he even have it in him to say no to what Ambrose was…for lack of a better word, proposing?
“Cain,” Ambrose begged. “Please give me an answer.”
Cain knew the answer and had since Zero had shot him and Ambrose had crafted him a new heart, not out of tangible pieces of material, but with care, attention, and all the love he could provide. He was scared. This was an unknown factor and a future with things he couldn’t dare predict.
But a life without Ambrose? That was a known and it wasn’t a pretty answer.
“Yes,” Cain finally said as the suns slowly relit the O.Z. with their light. “Of course.”
*
The wedding or ‘affirmation’ (as Cain preferred to call it) took place under Ambrose’s tree in the garden and was kept to the watchful eye of DG, Azkadellia, Jeb, and the reigning couple. Ambrose never asked Cain to remove Adora’s ring and instead slid a new one beside it, this one of silver to match the glinting gold.
No ‘I do’ was given or a recited religious vow. There were only quiet words of promises between the two and then a single kiss.
Cain found Jeb on the outskirts of the garden that day and he took a long moment to look at his son in the setting suns. His hair was a brilliant colour of sandy blond now and each strand seemed to catch the light. He stood proud and brave, ready for the world and any challenge. Cain couldn’t remember ever being prouder of him than he was at that moment.
He crossed the grass slowly when the ceremony was finished and the Princesses were treating Ambrose to tight hugs.
“Son,” Cain greeted, ambling up to stand beside him and look out onto the ponds below, surrounded by bright flowers. Sixteen annuals had passed since Cain’s world had been immersed into darkness and he had started a new road down a path that led to a safe home. He’d asked Jeb one night if he still remembered Adora and his son showed him a journal of all the things he could remember that he had painstakingly written down, for fear of forgetting. “Are you happy here?” he asked, clasping his son’s shoulder with a strong hand, callused and scarred by too many battles over the annuals.
Jeb turned to look at him, smiling contentedly and looking all the picture of a boy who had found his happiness. Cain remembered that age well and if Jeb was half as happy as Cain had been, then his son was in the best annuals of his life.
“I couldn’t be happier, Father,” Jeb promised. “This place, it’s home.”
Cain turned his attention not to the ponds or to the view of the O.Z. the palace afforded, but back to watch Ahamo and the Queen congratulate Ambrose while DG chased Azkadellia in their heavy dresses, shrieking with laughter the whole of the time. They weren’t just people who had taken them in, but they were family.
Cain had a lot of breath left in his body and just one task to fulfill. No matter what happened, no matter how things changed, he had a family and a home to protect.
“That it is,” he agreed quietly, bringing Jeb into a close embrace. “It’s the home I want you to always remember. People love you here and they always have. And they always will, no matter what the future brings.”
When Cain eased back to look at his son, there were tears in his eyes and Cain couldn’t explain them, but he wiped them away without saying a word.
“Only because of you. I know how much you gave up to give me this.” Jeb managed a nervous smile as he looked at Cain and nodded to Ambrose’s tree, as if the emotions were getting to be too much and neither Cain had ever been particularly good at discussing them. “I’m going to go talk to Azkadellia.”
“Be a gentleman,” Cain warned lightly.
Jeb wasn’t gone for more than thirty seconds before Ambrose joined Cain up on the cliff overlooking the O.Z., the suns dipping lower into the sky and bringing a cool dusk on the realm. Cain didn’t say much at all because he didn’t think words were necessary just then.
“Are you happy?” Ambrose asked, unknowingly echoing Cain’s words to his son.
“Couldn’t be happier,” Cain promised and it was the second promise that day that he meant so absolutely and with all his heart that the honesty rang clear and loud in his eyes and made him want to weep with joy or shout to the heavens. He tugged Ambrose close to him as he cleared his throat and pressed a kiss to his head, to that brain and to the injury and to everything he loved about the man. “Have courage,” he murmured to Ambrose with a wry smile. “Have conviction. Have confidence.”
“No,” Ambrose grinned along with him. “This is implicitly a case to have heart, Wyatt.”
Cain couldn’t argue with that.
THE END
**
AS PROMISED. For a reward for all of you who have kept up with me and have been so patient as to read this little opus, what I am offering is Missing Scene Ficlets. They probably will get up to 5 pages apiece, at the request of scenes or anything you would like to see within this universe.
The Longest Battle 8/8
Pairing: Ambrose/Cain, Jeb/Azkadellia
Disclaimer: I do not own them at all.
Summary: The Witch won't rest until she has the O.Z. in darkness, no matter how she must do it, no matter how long it takes.
Rating: PG-13.
Notes: This acts as an AU to the entire Tin Man series and hinges on just one question: "What if DG hadn't let go?" Fifteen annuals pass and while some things may remain the same, many is different. EXTREME thanks to
blackletter for being a wonderful & efficient beta. Well, here we are, close to the end. CHAPTER ONE: In which DG holds on, Zero takes matters into his own hands, Adora Cain is a casualty, Ambrose is given a lifetime of glitches, and Jeb Cain gets into Ambrose's bed before his father does.
CHAPTER TWO: In which the search for the Mystic Man begins, Cain makes failed attempts at bonding, Jeb hides well, and a tentative agreement is made between Ambrose and Cain.
CHAPTER THREE: In which Ambrose reveals why he hates Zero so much, it's Jeb's and then Wyatt's birthday, and Cain finds out that you can never have too much heart.
CHAPTER FOUR: In which Cain and Ambrose are exiled, they meet a Viewer named Raw who can feel the O.Z., Ambrose has to face the facts, and mobats have a nasty bite.
CHAPTER FIVE: In which Cain heals from wounds rendered, Jeb admits he doesn't know Ambrose, Zero makes a house-call, and Ambrose informs Cain that he and Jeb are moving back to the palace.
CHAPTER SIX: In which Cain and Ambrose adjust to not being alone, the Royal Family finds out, and Azkadellia is taken from under their noses.
CHAPTER SEVEN: In which our intrepid heroes take on the Witch.
“Poor thing,” Ambrose murmured quietly, sitting on the edge of Azkadellia’s bed.
They had stopped on their way back to the palace to consult with whatever healers the town had. Eventually, a Viewer by the name of Lylo was brought to them to heal the deeply burned flesh of Azkadellia’s fingers. He couldn’t heal them completely and said that she would have the pink scars for the rest of her life. They had let her to rest in one of the beds in the room they had rented, halfway between the palace and the caves.
Cain hadn’t stopped moving and Ambrose was beginning to become very suspicious as to when Cain was sleeping. He had assumed that the man caught rest while they all did, but now that the threat was gone and they could relax, he’d begun to notice the dark bags under his Cain’s eyes – Ambrose had experienced a lengthy self-debate as to whether Cain was a lover or a boyfriend or something else. In the end, he had decided Cain was his and left it at that.
“She’s alive,” Cain offered, soaking several pieces of dirty clothing in the basin that lay in the corner of the room. “We’re all alive, which is more than we expected.”
“Imagine,” Ambrose murmured lightly, keeping a hand atop Azkadellia’s to keep her company in her deepest rest. “Having a scar like that to accompany you through your days and always remind you of what you’ve done?”
Cain glanced back at him over his shoulder and in the natural light of the room, Ambrose could see every inch of exhaustion on his face. He had one other theory and that was that Cain hadn’t been sleeping at all. They had been out on the paths for days now and Cain looked like he had aged ten annuals in that time.
“We all have our scars, Ambrose,” Cain mumbled. “Just can’t see them all on the surface.”
Outside, the town they had stopped in was singing joyously and the sounds of music were everywhere. People had begun to hear the word that the Witch was dead and there would be no more nightmares, no more living in fear. People felt safe. Ambrose would be happy to indulge in the same feeling, just as soon as he could feel again. He still felt hollow and worried for Azkadellia, not to mention the neverending concern for Cain.
He squeezed the Princess’ hand before rising to his feet and crossing the room to close the window (in order to shut out the noise) and to wrap his arms around Cain’s waist from behind.
It was partly to support the other man, who looked ready to collapse. It was partly because Ambrose needed the physical contact.
“Cain, remind yourself, who’s the smartest man in this room?”
“I’m not in the mood for your ego, Ambrose,” Cain warned tiredly.
“I just wanted you to know that you’re not fooling anyone with the stoic routine,” Ambrose said, giving him a light pat against his abdomen. “Sleep. There’s no nightmare to run from.” And there was a second bed, procured at their request when they had arrived at the desk downstairs. They had all the time in the world to inch their way back home amongst parades and proclamations of joy. Ambrose could feel Cain relaxing into his arms to the point that he worried that he might become dead weight at any moment.
As lithe and strong as Ambrose was, he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be able to do anything more than drag Cain to the bed.
“You’re coming with,” Cain said, in a ‘no arguments’ tone.
Heavens forbid Ambrose would ever actually deny that request.
It was two days before any of them were willing to get out of bed and when they sat up on the second day, Azkadellia glanced over in a groggy haze to look at a sleeping Cain and Ambrose, who smiled back at her.
“You did very well, Princess,” Ambrose praised, his palm turned down and resting atop Cain’s heart as the other man slept fitfully, snoring occasionally while tossing and turning. Ambrose had managed to corral him into his arms and the blankets lay a mess around them. “Are you ready to go home?”
“I am,” she agreed, but lay herself down. They didn’t have to leave just yet.
*
It had taken a great deal of time for them to bring the Mystic Man back around to a glimmer of his former self, but Cain had been determined to get him restored to the man of great legend that he was. He had spent great spans of his time in counsel with the man (since the Witch had been defeated), trying to slowly pry him off of the Vapours, once and for all.
Five weeks after Cain had started his daily visits, he’d finally gotten something resembling an answer from the man who used to be able to field any and all questions.
“Do you know who I am?” he had asked.
“I’d never forget you, Wyatt Cain.”
It was sensible and shrewd at once and Cain’s lips split apart with a broad grin and he couldn’t help the loud chuckle that escaped him. Gods, he couldn’t stop laughing for what felt like hours the way he was going, his shoulders trembling with the force of his joy. He clapped a hand on the Mystic Man’s shoulder as he sank into a chair and let an exhalation sound his relief and exhaustion at the life he had been living.
He let his gaze drift to the Mystic Man. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Tell me, Cain. Just how long have I been like...this?”
“I wouldn’t look in a mirror, if I were you.”
“Avoiding a difficult question. You haven’t changed so much since you were one of mine.”
“I never stopped being your guy,” Cain promised him. “Even if I didn’t do so well by you for a lot of annuals, I was always trying.” He was probably going off the deep end with his persistent pleading, that he hadn’t just given up on a man who had given him the chance to be a protector and defend all the things that he wanted to in life. “Things have changed a lot.”
“Am I to guess?”
“Adora is dead,” Cain confessed, the words sounding empty and hollow so many annuals later. Sometime ago in his past, Cain had put the pain of her death in a box and locked it up as tightly as possible – that way, it couldn’t come back to hurt him and steal all his words and feelings. “Zero killed her before locking me away and then he got to you.” The words were hushed and tinged with nothing but the utmost of respect. “I met someone in the search for you, someone named Ambrose.”
“Yes, I know the man. Advisor to the Queen,” the Mystic Man chuckled to himself. “Quite a character when you get down to it. Slightly obsessed with his work, but there’s a piece of gossip here and there worth listening to.”
Cain had gone somewhat pink during the Mystic Man’s words.
“Cain?”
“I’m what you might call ‘dating’ him,” he offered evenly. It wasn’t news to anyone in the O.Z., but the Mystic Man hadn’t been up to current events so much as he was trying to put the pieces of his brain back into an order that made sense. Cain wasn’t even sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, so when the Mystic Man merely arched an eyebrow and said nothing, Cain felt a slight assault of determination to ferret out why that reaction, of all things. “What?”
“The heart isn’t a straightforward thing, Cain. You’d think that there would be an answer, that A plus B equals C rather than a complex set of equations that prove to be difficult to understand and even more difficult to postulate.”
Cain had always hated when the Mystic Man got going about the universe. He never had a chance of understanding it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to drag Ambrose down into the room to translate for him.
“My point being that with your wife gone, gods rest her soul, it’s as difficult to predict who you might have found in her place as it would be to determine what the weather would be for the next annual.”
Cain was listening. He wasn’t sure he was appreciating the comments, but he was determined to listen as best as he could.
“So what do you think of Ambrose?” Cain offered, figuring they should at least move onto the topic now that he wasn’t being blasted with guilt over how he could possibly move on after Adora, even though it had nearly been thirteen annuals since he had buried his wife in the cold and wet ground.
“A good man,” the Mystic Man pronounced loudly, still smiling that knowing glimmer of a thing on his face. “A smart man. Occasionally, he saw fit to challenge my intelligence with his own. I suppose it would take a man like him to tame one like you.”
“No one’s tamed anyone, here,” Cain warned in a low voice.
“Oh, no, of course not. I’m sure you’ve not changed an inch for him.”
Cain couldn’t bring himself to care much about what the Mystic Man was implying because he was able to make those kinds of accusations and for days after, he was still making those verbal assaults against Cain. If it meant that he had to endure a little bit of ribbing about his love life and the life his son had become accustomed to, then Cain would take it all and more in exchange for the fact that the Mystic Man was once again the same great wizard of thoughts that he had once been.
Weeks later, he was back to Central City to hold counsel with anyone who needed it.
Ambrose had commented on the article in the paper at breakfast one morning while Cain poked through a bowl of apples to find the reddest, juiciest one the palace had to bring over to Ambrose for his approval. Truth be told, Ambrose had been commenting on everything that came that morning, from the letters (“Oh, incidentally, Raw says thank you for the invitation, but he wants to stay where he is. Apparently, he has a son now! I told him we’d visit when I wrote back and promised to not even bring bad vibes”) to the Queen’s notes (“She’s receiving endless requests for us and the Princess to make appearances. She doesn’t think she can deny them much longer”) to the articles in the newspaper.
“The Mystic Man Returns To Hold Court,” Ambrose read aloud. “Thanks to you,” he added casually, picking at a plate’s worth of prepared food sent up from the kitchen. Cain never had much of a stomach for the fancy stuff the others could pack down and usually stayed with something simple like fruit in the morning. “Honestly, Cain, one day, you need to let me sit you down and have the Queen give you the Knighted honours already.”
“Don’t you dare, sweetheart,” Cain warned, tossing a perfect red apple back towards the table. Ambrose caught it easily, chomping into the fruit as he flipped through the Central Gazette idly, going back when an article caught his eye now and then. “I’m happy with what I am.”
“A hero with a boy scout syndrome?” Ambrose suggested sarcastically, accepting Cain’s kiss when the Tin Man came to sit down beside him and steal the paper. Cain was thinking about going in for a second kiss, but the boy scout part had put him off it, so he just stole the paper and settled in with the task of peeling an orange with his nails, deliberately ignoring Ambrose all the while.
They sat in silence for a great while before either of them found cause to speak.
“Did you ask the Mystic Man anything?” Ambrose hinted at curiously. Cain could tell from practiced knowledge of the man that he was trying not to sound too invested, but cared desperately about the answer.
“I did.”
“And?”
“I asked him about you.”
Cain suppressed the pleased and smug smile from his face when he could see Ambrose squirming out of the corner of his eye, just dying to ask more on that subject. Cain wasn’t about to say a word, but he enjoyed making Ambrose move like that.
After five minutes, Cain took pity on the other man. “I asked what he thought about you.”
“And, Cain? What did he say!” Ambrose nearly spat out nervously.
“He said you tamed me.”
“Well, I am good with a whip and a chair...”
“Down, boy,” Cain said in a wry, bemused tone. Ambrose laughed quietly and Cain smiled to himself as he turned back the pages to read the details of the article on the Mystic Man and to let himself feel content in knowing that he had finally done something that was going to benefit all of the O.Z. and not just the family he had made for himself.
*
There was an old tree on the palace grounds that Ambrose had once claimed for his own. He kept a small garden there of herbs, rare hybrid flowers he had created, and new types of fruit he was trying to cultivate. In the spring, the tree blossomed with brilliant pink flowers the colour of the sky at sunsrise. A full annual after the Witch had fallen, Ambrose found DG there, playing with several of the blossoms and twirling them in the air. Seventeen annuals now, she was ready to jump headfirst into the world and do what she wanted. ‘You get that from your mother,’ Ambrose had commented, to a shrug of indifference from the younger Princess.
DG looked contemplative today as she twirled the flowers back and forth with her magic while Ambrose approached, kneeling with reverence.
“My Princess.”
“Ambrose,” DG pleaded, yanking his hands so he would get off his knee. “I told you not to do that to me. It makes me feel creepy or something.” So instead of kneeling before her, he sat down on a gnarled branch, glancing over at DG as she spun more and more blossoms with her magic. “Is it really over?” she asked, eyes up on the flowers.
“That’s what I keep hearing,” Ambrose agreed, rubbing the back of his head. The medic had said that he would still have issues that would probably compound as he grew older, but Cain had just took his hand when he’d relayed the news and promised to keep an eye out for him. “No more nightmares, no more scorching of the O.Z., no more rebellion.”
“But Jeb and Mr. Cain are staying,” she asked, looking at him as if she could detect whether he was lying or not, just using her eyes. “Right? I mean, they wouldn’t leave just because the Witch is dead.”
That had been put into song as if the whole O.Z. needed to rejoice this simple victory that happened between four people in a dark cave to the South.
“Cain is here to stay,” Ambrose could promise that much. “Jeb, I can’t promise he won’t want to go off to pursue higher education when he turns eighteen, just as you have the choice and Azkadellia did as well.” He wondered sometimes if DG and Jeb would do what Azkadellia did not, if they would embrace education and read the endless shelves of books that had been Ambrose’s only friend for so many annuals.
“I think Jeb is in love with Az,” DG opined, displaying the keen observational skills that Ambrose had always known her to have. “He gets weird around her. Like…stupid weird.”
“And you haven’t found your own boy to be stupid-weird around?” Ambrose couldn’t help but tease.
“Boys are gross,” DG scoffed in that overly defensive way she had about her when she was trying to mask something, which made Ambrose wonder just which boy had waltzed into the palace and caught the Princess’ eye. Ambrose hoped he was more than good enough or else he would have to take measures to root him out of DG’s life and he was sure that Ahamo and Cain would be all-too-willing to help (along with Azkadellia, who would do her own silent part when her mother’s back was turned).
“I don’t know, some of them turn out fine,” Ambrose said lightly, still in a light and teasing mood. “I can personally vouch for the Cain genetics.”
“Yeah, but Cain isn’t Jeb,” DG said, as if that made all the sense in the world.
Ambrose had always wondered what DG thought of him and Cain for their relationship and whether she condoned. All the outward signs obviously pointed towards her not caring, but he had never been able to officially ask and DG’s opinion meant the world to him.
“Do you think he’s right for me?” Ambrose couldn’t help but ask, now that the most pressing problem on the Royal Agenda was whether they would travel South or North for their next vacation (when Ambrose had brought it up to Cain, the other man had tipped his hat down over his face and mumbled ‘anywhere you are works for me’).
“I think you two are great together,” DG praised warmly. “You go good together. Like…complements,” she said carefully. “Is that right? Tutor taught me the word.”
She didn’t know it, but that was the kindest thing DG could have ever said to him.
*
The first time Cain saw Ambrose dance was thirteen annuals after he had first met the man. Some people might say that that was an eternity to wait, but Cain needed the time to properly distance the idea of dancing from Adora. It was Jeb’s sixteenth birthday and the Queen had insisted upon a ball for his sake. Jeb had quickly agreed on the condition that Azkadellia would be there.
Cain might have winced for his son’s obvious crush on the older Princess, but his son was genuinely happy, so Cain couldn’t really find it in him to be too embarrassed.
As for him and Ambrose, things were going better than he could have ever hoped with only some mild exceptions.
This would be one of them.
The Queen had put together a masked little thing, dressing the Cains in the best wear in the O.Z. and masking them as well before sending them off to enjoy the night. While Jeb was tolerating it very politely, Cain kept fidgeting with the material and making subversive and simple comments about the fabric being too itchy and the pants too tight. Ambrose had abandoned him at one point, muttering ‘if all you’re going to do is complain, I’m not going to sit and listen to it’.
So Ambrose had gone out there to dance and for the first time since they’d met, Cain got to see just how much rhythm was in his soul, like he always professed.
He danced with men with brilliant red hair and men who had striking green eyes. He dipped and twirled around the dance floor to tangos and waltzes and came back to the table for a drink with his cheeks flushed with pink and his eyes on other men. Cain wasn’t a jealous man by nature. He knew that there were certain things that couldn’t be changed and some things, you just accepted. What Ambrose was doing wasn’t exactly riling him, but it did raise questions.
Eventually, Cain didn’t want to stay, not even for Jeb’s sake, when his eyes caught Ambrose in a slow twist around the floor with a high placed Royal Cousin to the sounds of violins playing. He lifted from his seat at the head of the table and wandered over to Jeb on the dance floor, clasping a hand on his shoulder.
He turned to look at his father through the white and gold mask on his face. “Father,” he greeted in surprise. Cain peered over Jeb’s shoulder to find DG standing there with a brilliant blue mask to go with her eyes. She waved pleasantly and Cain gave her a nod in return. “Is everything all right?”
“Just fine,” Cain promised, sounding disgruntled. “I need to get out of these clothes though,” he admitted. Say what you would about Cain’s limits of patience, but dressing up like a clown for the night was definitely outside of the bounds.
He afforded one last look at Ambrose, whose fingers were stroking the hip of that same Cousin, that…Stefan or Sven or whatever his name was. Cain might not be jealous, but he wasn’t about to sit around and pine over the fact that his semi-somewhat-very-much-boyfriend was feeling up other people.
He pried the mask off and rubbed at the back of his neck as he wandered into the hall just outside the main room, hearing the music playing and feeling like Adora was watching him from somewhere just out of sight. He tipped his head to the ceiling, as if expecting to find some ethereal vision there, but all he saw was the chandelier.
“Cain?”
That was Ambrose’s voice with a loud burst of music. It looked like a search party was about to be deployed. He turned to find Ambrose wandering out.
“I thought that was you. I looked for you, but couldn’t find you. Well, after I couldn’t remember you,” he said, bluntly. “But then I stopped glitching and couldn’t find you. Too much of a party for you?”
Cain rubbed his thumb over his temple, debating whether he wanted to even bring it up. It wasn’t like he planned on tying Ambrose down or that he’d ever forbid him from doing anything, but that was the difference between them. Cain only wanted one person to devote his heart to and Ambrose seemed willing to wander.
“Couldn’t help but notice you out there on the dance floor,” Cain remarked evenly. “With just about every attractive man at the party.”
“Well, of course,” Ambrose said defensively.
“Of course?”
“You don’t dance. What else was I supposed to do?”
Cain couldn’t help that he looked like a confused deer stuck in headlamps. He was wondering just when it was that he’d jumped onto the losing side of this battle, seeing as he was fairly sure that he had the right to be defensive and less than pleased, but Ambrose was turning this right around, what with the whole ‘not dancing’ part.
“It didn’t mean anything,” Ambrose pointed out, slowly sidling up to Cain to draw him back towards the room, Cain’s hands in Ambrose’s. “It was just something to pass the time. You don’t dance. I don’t sit in corners when I don’t have to. If the ladies are going to treat me like a wallflower, then I’ll just let the men take me around the dance floor.”
Cain was still too far gone and speechless to be able to reply.
“I bet, though,” Ambrose continued talking with a sly and coquettish tone, almost whispering, “that I can change your mind about dancing.”
“I don’t hate dancing, Ambrose,” Cain pointed out, letting the other man slowly tug him back into the grand room. “In fact, I never said I did. I dance, but you just never thought to ask me.”
He tugged his hands away from Ambrose and gave him a pointed look. He felt like he had the upper hand again, at least. It felt good to be smug, even for a brief moment, but he let Ambrose take his hands again to take him back into the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Ambrose asked, sounding quietly hurt. “I’ve known you for thirteen annuals and you never mentioned that.”
“Dancing reminded me of Adora.”
There. And he’d used the past tense too so Ambrose and his giant brain could understand that Cain was finally feeling like he could step out from that shadow and try again. Ambrose seemed to get it because he started to slowly smile and dragged Cain out onto the dance floor to keep him close.
“Start fresh,” Ambrose encouraged, hand on Cain’s hip as he turned them into the first steps of a lively dance. “Then I won’t have to go hunt down pretty nobles to be my dance partner.”
And just like that, Cain had been tripped onto the losing side again.
Funny that he didn’t mind it so much.
*
The annuals drew onwards without fail, bringing them all to new points in their lives. Now that Jeb was more than eighteen annuals, Azkadellia no longer ignored the lingering looks and even went so far as to say ‘yes’ after one of his endless demands for dinner with her, just the both of them where no one could interrupt. Cain didn’t really know what to think of his son and the Princess of the O.Z., the one in line for the throne. After all, what did it mean if things did work out and one day, Jeb was sitting there on that throne beside her?
Father-in-law to the Queen of the O.Z. wasn’t exactly an occupation that Cain had ever thought he’d hold. He was getting ahead of himself, though. It was just innocent little dates and it could all end up in a big fit about nothing.
He had been leaning over the stone balconies of the palace, waiting for Ambrose to get himself up from the lab to join him. The double eclipse was finally there and after so much hype from the cities and villages around, Cain wanted to at least spend the time with the person that, outside Jeb, he cared for most in the O.Z.
Half of him expected Ambrose to forget about their date completely, but the sound of the door sliding shut gave Cain cause to smile.
“Sorry, I had to give orders before I left,” Ambrose apologized gently. “You know how the new boys around here are,” he added wryly. “Have to tell them three times to even listen.” He mimicked Cain’s positioning as he leaned forward, his left hand brushing over Cain’s forearm to take hold of his right hand, leaning there with his eyes canted to the sky. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything, though.” He sounded slightly nervous to Cain’s well-trained ear, but he dismissed it as the fact that they hadn’t found time to just have a quiet date in weeks.
Cain let silence wash over them as the suns disappeared completely and the land was swathed in darkness. He knew he wasn’t supposed to look, but he couldn’t help peeking. He’d endure the lecture later from Ambrose.
“Cain,” Ambrose spoke, his voice distant.
Well, a little earlier than expected, but here it came…
“Yeah, Ambrose?”
“Will you marry me?”
When Cain looked down, his vision was still spotty from staring right up into the eclipse and so he saw little pieces of Ambrose’s face instead of the whole thing – an eye there, a small pock of a mark there, and just the corner of his lips.
What Cain said next was entirely a knee-jerk response. Emphasis, of course, on the jerk part. “Why?”
“Because it’s what people do when they’ve been together as long as we have,” Ambrose remarked logically. “Because it would make what we have a little more sanctioned in the eyes of an O.Z. who enjoys their gossip about as much as they enjoy their peace. And because I love you.”
Cain had proposed to Adora a very long time ago, getting down on one knee and ruining a perfectly good pair of pants in the process. He had presented her a simple ring, all that he could afford. He hadn’t been much more than nineteen annuals when he’d decided that she was the woman he wanted to spend his life with.
He didn’t expect to be proposed to in his life, especially not by the Queen’s Advisor on a balcony while he held Cain’s hand and the double eclipse happened above them.
They stood there in silence until the suns came back out from their shadow.
“You haven’t answered me,” Ambrose pointed out lightly.
“I need more time to think.”
Yes. No. Maybe. There were all of Cain’s options laid out for him. From a logical standpoint, he knew that he loved Ambrose and they’d been together a long time and had even been friends before that. Cain couldn’t stop the stubborn persistence of thought though, that Ambrose was a man (obviously) and Cain didn’t know if he was ready to up and marry someone again.
He still wore his wedding ring, the one Adora had kissed every night while they lay in bed together.
“Give me a week,” Cain bartered. “I need time, considering this affects the rest of my life.”
“No.”
Cain withdrew away from Ambrose and gave him a sharp look. “No?”
“No, Cain, you don’t need a week,” Ambrose pointed out impatiently and with a loud huff. “There are two options. One involves you spending your life with me. One doesn’t. It really is as simple as that and considering the myriad of complicated things you and I have seen in our lives, this is nothing!” he continued, cheeks slightly red from the exertion of his verbal argument. “If you absolutely need the justification, then just think of it that way. Wyatt Cain, do you want to spend the rest of your life with me and only me?” he rephrased it, looking dashed, like Cain had already said no.
He wore a ring for a woman who lived only in his memory and in Jeb’s. He lived in a palace under the watchful eye of a Queen and her King and two daughters, girls that Cain would rip apart the O.Z. to protect. He didn’t have a simple home any longer, no wooden walls to keep the world at bay. He had a family and a man who loved him.
Did he even have it in him to say no to what Ambrose was…for lack of a better word, proposing?
“Cain,” Ambrose begged. “Please give me an answer.”
Cain knew the answer and had since Zero had shot him and Ambrose had crafted him a new heart, not out of tangible pieces of material, but with care, attention, and all the love he could provide. He was scared. This was an unknown factor and a future with things he couldn’t dare predict.
But a life without Ambrose? That was a known and it wasn’t a pretty answer.
“Yes,” Cain finally said as the suns slowly relit the O.Z. with their light. “Of course.”
*
The wedding or ‘affirmation’ (as Cain preferred to call it) took place under Ambrose’s tree in the garden and was kept to the watchful eye of DG, Azkadellia, Jeb, and the reigning couple. Ambrose never asked Cain to remove Adora’s ring and instead slid a new one beside it, this one of silver to match the glinting gold.
No ‘I do’ was given or a recited religious vow. There were only quiet words of promises between the two and then a single kiss.
Cain found Jeb on the outskirts of the garden that day and he took a long moment to look at his son in the setting suns. His hair was a brilliant colour of sandy blond now and each strand seemed to catch the light. He stood proud and brave, ready for the world and any challenge. Cain couldn’t remember ever being prouder of him than he was at that moment.
He crossed the grass slowly when the ceremony was finished and the Princesses were treating Ambrose to tight hugs.
“Son,” Cain greeted, ambling up to stand beside him and look out onto the ponds below, surrounded by bright flowers. Sixteen annuals had passed since Cain’s world had been immersed into darkness and he had started a new road down a path that led to a safe home. He’d asked Jeb one night if he still remembered Adora and his son showed him a journal of all the things he could remember that he had painstakingly written down, for fear of forgetting. “Are you happy here?” he asked, clasping his son’s shoulder with a strong hand, callused and scarred by too many battles over the annuals.
Jeb turned to look at him, smiling contentedly and looking all the picture of a boy who had found his happiness. Cain remembered that age well and if Jeb was half as happy as Cain had been, then his son was in the best annuals of his life.
“I couldn’t be happier, Father,” Jeb promised. “This place, it’s home.”
Cain turned his attention not to the ponds or to the view of the O.Z. the palace afforded, but back to watch Ahamo and the Queen congratulate Ambrose while DG chased Azkadellia in their heavy dresses, shrieking with laughter the whole of the time. They weren’t just people who had taken them in, but they were family.
Cain had a lot of breath left in his body and just one task to fulfill. No matter what happened, no matter how things changed, he had a family and a home to protect.
“That it is,” he agreed quietly, bringing Jeb into a close embrace. “It’s the home I want you to always remember. People love you here and they always have. And they always will, no matter what the future brings.”
When Cain eased back to look at his son, there were tears in his eyes and Cain couldn’t explain them, but he wiped them away without saying a word.
“Only because of you. I know how much you gave up to give me this.” Jeb managed a nervous smile as he looked at Cain and nodded to Ambrose’s tree, as if the emotions were getting to be too much and neither Cain had ever been particularly good at discussing them. “I’m going to go talk to Azkadellia.”
“Be a gentleman,” Cain warned lightly.
Jeb wasn’t gone for more than thirty seconds before Ambrose joined Cain up on the cliff overlooking the O.Z., the suns dipping lower into the sky and bringing a cool dusk on the realm. Cain didn’t say much at all because he didn’t think words were necessary just then.
“Are you happy?” Ambrose asked, unknowingly echoing Cain’s words to his son.
“Couldn’t be happier,” Cain promised and it was the second promise that day that he meant so absolutely and with all his heart that the honesty rang clear and loud in his eyes and made him want to weep with joy or shout to the heavens. He tugged Ambrose close to him as he cleared his throat and pressed a kiss to his head, to that brain and to the injury and to everything he loved about the man. “Have courage,” he murmured to Ambrose with a wry smile. “Have conviction. Have confidence.”
“No,” Ambrose grinned along with him. “This is implicitly a case to have heart, Wyatt.”
Cain couldn’t argue with that.
THE END
**
AS PROMISED. For a reward for all of you who have kept up with me and have been so patient as to read this little opus, what I am offering is Missing Scene Ficlets. They probably will get up to 5 pages apiece, at the request of scenes or anything you would like to see within this universe.
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Yeah, incredibly eloquent, I know. XDD But that's as much a comment you're gonna get from me now. I shall be thinking of what to request for later, however. :3
♥
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Epic story, I enjoyed it tremendously!
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Thank you for reading!
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I qould dearly like to take you up on your drabble offer... I really loved the idea of Ambrose cultivating that little private garden, so anything to do with that or plants in general would be lovely. Thank you! ♥
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I loved every second of this and I'm glad you're doing the missing scenes. I'll have to read back over this, like that would ward a complaint (ya right), and see what I can think of. ^___^
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Part 5: It went like that for weeks. The O.Z. seemed to be improving and Ambrose took to locking himself (and Cain) in his laboratory. While Cain usually spent most of the early annuals with Ahamo, he now elected to spend them with Ambrose to hear about the latest scientific discovery or to watch him work and sometimes, even to remind him of who he was.
This scene was inspired by a spoon at supper tonight. In all these times that they ate together in Ambrose's lab there must have been at least one funny or sexy moment involving a spoon, licking the spoon that is, if done right it can be torture. Mine happened to have chocolate pudding on it :D
Part 7: Zero had been half-conscious and had started to fight just before he’d been locked away.
Maybe just a bit more detail on Zero fighting back and then being put into the suit?
Part 8: “A good man,” the Mystic Man pronounced loudly, still smiling that knowing glimmer of a thing on his face. “A smart man. Occasionally, he saw fit to challenge my intelligence with his own. I suppose it would take a man like him to tame one like you.”
I'd like to see a scene of Ambrose challenging the Mystic Man, perhaps they could play a game of chess or something of the sort.
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So, this may sound a little pervy, but I think you mentiond somewhere that the top/bottom situation changes in the future, and I think it'd be interesting to see the power change and how it affects their relationship.
Also, I'd love to see more of Jeb, Az, and DG, and what it was like around the castle for them while the boys where gone, Jeb dealing with his father's absence, his growing crush on Azkedellia, and her thoughts on the matter as well.
Ambrose and Zero's school days. :)
Honestly, I think I'd love just about anything more in this universe.
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Thanks for reading!
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This is the most absolutely perfect ending ever in the history of ever. I have just had an incredibly bad moment, and this is just... I was crying and now I am smiling. You are WIN. pure and simple.
Thank you. <333
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Thank you so much for reading all the way along!
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Thank you so much for reading!
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<3 lovins to joo
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Thank you for reading!
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