Archive of Our Own ^beta

0. Woven with their life.

Butterflies, whose existence was spoken into the realm through divine tongue, utter a fable spanning ages till the present.

Their wings fan of prose written in golden scripts, blessed by their creator's romantic flare.

Aglaea, The Chrysalis of Gold, had sewn the tale of two lovers into the daylight of Amphoreus, spread across its expanse and beyond its skies, beckoning its praise until those who slumber could awaken to its celebration. The homecoming of their divine love.

I. 1000 Years of endless wait.

Before their ascension, the Pillar of Stone, Dan Heng walked the entire span of Amphoreus in the search of a brilliant spark that they had befriended before they appeared as a demigod. Their origins laid in a land beyond the sky, and their friend, the sought after ray of dawn, were the prophesied world-bearer— The Throne of Worlds, Stelle.

Lord Stelle had known death, known slumber, known fury, and had known love.

What they didn't know was the affections harboured in the heart of the one who walked beside them through it all.

Even if those affections were blooming in tandem in their heart as well.

It took a drastic trial of time, posed by the Veil of Evernight, to plunge the burning star into depths of the memorium maze, when those feelings phased through their nomenclature.

Love. They loved their companion and they never told them.

A loss that felt a bigger weight than that of Amphoreus.

Lord Dan Heng was more unabashed in his pursuit, however.

He set his eyes on them the moment they learnt of their disappearance and dove into the past and present of the land; whispering to creatures, from bugs to blue birds, whales to wallabies, carcasses to crying kittens, and breathing in dust and tendrils crawling upon them for a twinkle of their shine.

Even at the verge of forgetting their memory, they could never lose their feelings for the one they loved.

Until there was one special golden butterfly which made them aware of the golden string tying them with the spirit underneath.

Then there was no stopping them.

Their draconic glory had surpassed the dense earth to emerge with their beloved in tow, and a long due confession was, at last, declared from the sunny tongue.

A blessed lip-lock sealed their bond with the bleeding golden Scarwood grove as their heavenly witness.

II. 100 hours of connubial joy.

Era Nova was welcomed in a realm outside time.

And so was a union thus conferred.

In the breeze of fresh wheat fields and tinkering of the wind chimes, Lady ■■■■■■ brought two hearts to be meld into one. For three day cycles, rites and ceremony made up for a serene time of ascension.

Under the giant tree, outside the Sacrament Courtyard, two newborn titans wore wreaths on their heads and blessings within their heart to take each other as their spouse, entering the holy matrimony that would transcend their humanity unto their divinity, a touchstone of devotion for mortals to worship; a bond so surreal that even the Romance titan knit a canopy of golden leaves to flutter over them.

The butterflies chirped of vows no mere lover could conjure, but only a devotee of those they coveted.

"With you, I shall

Bear the weight of the new world

Cherish life like our progeny

Slumber upon the land we paved

Murmur love into each symphony."

"O dearest lord of Earth

As I see my eyes in yours

No Sun could do me harm

To spend forever in your embrace

The dawn is weightless in your arms."

As they marched towards a new daybreak, hand-in-hand, their forms growing smaller as horizon approached closer, the heart of Amphoreus knew her land was in good hands.

III. 10 centuries of restful bliss.

Was it truly an astonishing to see that the grass around the Worldbearer's feet was a little greener and softer than the rest of the grounds around them? That the winds blew cooler and gently so when one ascended the stairs of Dawncloud?

Or was one's heart supposed to melt at the sight of one single rivulet of red streaming down from the titan's fourth finger, right from one of their outstretched hands, towards a pond that was always bubbling over but never truly flooding out?

Yes, it was— and it was beautiful.

Ever so often, citizens of Okhema could hear restful whispers erupting as gentle tremors from the land, as if the soil was caressing the giant looming over it, or feel that the Dawn Device would shine just a bit brighter to make the sunflowers sway with glee.

And in these moments of persistent proclamations from the deities, of course, other gods also flanked their kin to tease them with their regards.

The Bough of Rift, Anaxagoras, seldom admonished the one who governed the earth, the tendrils of their giant tree sprouting deeper in the loam, as if to imitate their chiding for how overly sweet their affection was and how their meditative slumber was projecting dreams that they did not wish to see.

The Eye of Twilight, Hyacinthia, would sprinkle rain on the brighter mornings, blessing humanity with vibrant rainbows fuelled with lovelorn colours and mirthful petrichor, scenting the Stone and Throne alike.

The Gate of Infinity, Tribios, sent young couples to the Crimson Pond of Fated, where the ichor of two deities melded together, the embodiment of their souls tied with one string, unbreakable and one path, infallible, while the Scales of Justice, Cerydra, found their commitment the greatest commandment of all.

Helektra, the Chalice of Plenty, stirred ambrosia in the seas of Amphoreus, smiling together with the Chrysalis of Gold and celebrating their union in an everlasting banquet, where sirens sang of their passion and golden threads of romance were spun in a wheel, woven endlessly.

The Lance of Fury, Mydeimos, and the Hand of Shadow, Castorice, would converse with departed souls, who spoke shyly of the sweet nothings that would echo on their passage to the nether realm, deep sounds straight from the spirit of the earth sent upwards to their beloved; and they would keep such open secrets to themselves, conspiring of ways to fluster the slumbering lovers once they would be awakened.

The countless kittens in Dolos would hear the purrs of the Coin of Whimsy, Cifera, speaking to the feline audience about stories of the past demigod lovers' shame and awkwardness into humorous bedtime tales, and hear the meows of surprise when they would realise that the sputtering warriors of past were titans of today.

Then there was March, Veil of Evernight, who captured those countless affectionate displays through the passage of time, to reminisce later with their family, when their world would once again return to the metallic walls of an outland carriage, a home that belonged to the three of them.

And of course, ■■■■■■, the Demiurge, who would wed them in the pages of reality and As I've Written for another 33 million cycles without hesitation, and the hero Khaslana, who would protect their paradise and bless them with his own life, burning the pyre of separation with his own body.

IV. 1 lifetime and beyond death.

True, that he saw her hair as if it was glittering stardust, the first time they met. That her eyes bled molten gold as their distance shortened, when her gaze met his.

True, that he saw her hair as if it were her own ashes fanning across her face in strands. That her eyes were a mellow ochre as lifeless as her, boring into his.

Lies, when he declared he wouldn't stoop any low as a sinner that plagued him with memories that weren't his.

Lies, when he told her that it wouldn't matter to him if she did or didn't stray towards the same track as his.

Truth was that he would eat sins for a living if she was alive and well, and his.

Truth was that his life would never be any closer to heaven without her on the road that was his.

False would be the reality where she was not his North Star, where he could not anchor her to the shore that was his.

False would be the purpose that ne'er led to her arms, one that let her hand not grasp his.

Her body was his to love, her love was his to crave. He would lay on a thorny road so she could pass over him, and if she would bleed from any nicks left unattended, he would bleed for her.

Thousand years of devotion rarely comes to pass; perhaps, once in a blue moon. But there she was, painting his moon blue with her love, with her grins that she only reserved for him.

They are humans, once they were gods too.

And they will be gods again, as fate will ordain.

But what would be more divine than a love that could trailblaze beyond the finality of everything, more permanent than the concept of reality itself?

Till death do us part, or so mortals say.

But the night when they only belonged to each other— after the war, after their existence went past itself and came back, after they faced another separation just to inevitably unite— they whispered once, with the absolution of supernovas and black holes, with resolution of their destiny foretold and their obsessions heightened in the four walls of their home. It was the only vow that mattered most.

What's death to do us part?

V. Exotale: Scene ■■■

The eyes of the feline glowed a marbly blue.

Its gaze scanned the contents of an old scroll, the elegant handiwork of a bygone seamstress glowed like miniature stars, as it purred in appreciation of the romantic saga. Perhaps the Aeon Idrila perished in the search of the beauty of the epic that belonged to the two trailblazers, masters of their own path, but so intertwined that even forces that could scatter forces of gravity would fail to separate the matter that made up their love.

The universe was on a path of its conclusion, and the obsidian cat could sense the harmonic cancer stir beneath her bosom, so did the dragon's siesta ceasing gradually.

Ah, it thought, but it's the finest epilogue in the making.

Dan Heng and Stelle, they will build a universe with love again, with scales borne of stardust.