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 Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:40 pm
Backdated to July. Takes place directly after Family Reunion. The others returned to the main house. Eld stayed by the fire, keeping watch even though the fire had been put out—protective even at his own expense, or perhaps as some small effort to make amends, to prove himself to Quinn, who only had the word of strangers and a long lost brother to go by.
Tyr took Quinn to the carriage house.
It hadn’t changed much in the years he and Eld had called it home, except that it now looked lived in. Everything would be new to Quinn anyway. The small, rustic kitchen. The dining area and the living area, arranged on opposite sides of a central fireplace. The flight of stairs leading up to the single bedroom. Various knick-knacks littered every available surface, some purchased with the money they were loaned, others made by hand from whittled wood or polished stone—Eld’s contributions more than Tyr’s. A few books now joined them, children’s novels the oldest of the Gallo children were helping Tyr through, aiding him in his improving grasp of the written language.
His reunion with Eld had begun in the kitchen, a nervous reconciliation after a battle fraught with danger.
Tyr brought Quinn to the living area. They sat on the couch side by side, close enough to hold one another, to lay their heads on each other's shoulders, to breathe the same air like twins in the womb, though they’d never been that. Paris and Chris’ mother Claire, and the man Quinn called Jack, had ensured they had enough food and drink to split between them once they were ready for it. Plates and cups and condiments sat before them on the low table by the couch.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” Tyr finished the thought from before.
His tears had not dried, but he mustered the strength to speak through them.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:42 pm
Quinn sat beside his brother in silence at first, too full of everything to find the edges of any one particular feeling. He hadn’t let go of Tyr since they’d stepped inside, his fingers remained loosely curled in the fabric of Tyr’s sleeve like a child afraid to be lost again. His throat burned. His eyes itched and face felt wet, although he tried to blink the tears away. They were quickly replaced with new tears.
The room was cool, especially compared to the heat of summer outside. It made Quinn shift closer to Tyr for warmth, as well as comfort. The little house felt lived in, and something about the space made the tears come harder for a moment, although he once again tried to blink them away.
Tyr had made a life here. With Eld. A life that Quinn hadn’t known existed.
He looked around, taking it in. The little carvings on the shelf, the stack of children’s books, the colorful pieces of glass hung in the windows that would likely catch the sunlight and paint the room in vibrant colors. It didn’t look like the home of someone held hostage. It looked… safe.
And stupidly domestic. There was nothing he could spot that gave him a target to lash out at. Nothing that he didn’t think would upset Tyr, anyway. And he didn’t want to hurt his brother.
Tyr’s voice pulled him back. I never thought I’d see you again.
Quinn scowled quietly to himself and twisted so he could press his face against Tyr’s shoulder, exhaling like it could relieve some of the pressure in his chest. He hated how much his throat tightened around anything he tried to say. He wanted to break apart and crawl into Tyr’s lap like they were kids again. But instead, he reached up to scrub at his face -- the part that he wasn’t hiding in Tyr’s shoulder.
“I thought you were dead,” he muttered, voice still hoarse and scratchy from earlier. He shifted slightly but didn’t pull away. He just tilted his head enough on Tyr’s shoulder to look at his face with his sharp, reddened eyes.
“...Are you really safe here? With him? You don’t have to lie to me about it, you know that, right?” Despite the expression on his face, which was likely forced a bit at this point, there was no anger in his tone. Only fierce and protective worry. He wasn’t ready to forgive Eld, and maybe he never would. But Tyr mattered to him, that was never in question.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:43 pm
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Tyr assured him.
He would have, before—when they’d been young, when the thought of Quinn or their sister witnessing the worst parts of his life had filled Tyr with humiliation and dread. His visits with them, however infrequent or fleeting, had been some of the only indulgences he was allowed. Even in the absence of his mother, to deny their continuance would have aroused suspicion. Tyr had been too bereft to understand the truth of his mother’s passing anyway. He had been blind to it, perhaps because he hadn’t wanted to see.
Realization had come, not in slow increments, but in an abrupt cascade Tyr did not know if he would ever recover from. Everything from the moment his mother first fell ill to the moment he’d been placed in stasis had been a lie.
How much before it had been, too?
“I’m safe,” Tyr said, but his voice was weak and brittle, strained from emotion and drawn thin by shame, because he had done nothing to ensure safety on his own. “Eld didn’t lie either. It wasn’t he who had my mother killed. It was my uncle.”
Tyr pressed his face into Quinn’s hair but kept his eyes open, afraid he would see his uncle’s face in the darkness of his own mind if he allowed them to close.
“I think I always knew the truth, but… I was too afraid to accept it. I thought to trust and obey my uncle would be easier. I thought he cared for me. My uncle watched over me my whole life, and Eld was a stranger building an empire. Why should I question what I was told until it all began to unravel?”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:43 pm
Quinn’s grip on Tyr’s sleeve didn’t ease up, even as his brother’s words sank in. Safe. With Eld. It was like a splinter had found its way into his heart, impossible to ignore but would only hurt worse the more he picked at it.
His brows furrowed, and he let out a skeptical scoff before looking away. He wanted to accuse Tyr of always being too quick to believe the best in people, but that wasn’t quite right. They only had each other to rely on. Then. And… maybe no longer now. And that hurt in ways Quinn didn’t know how to put into words.
He didn’t want to say anything that might hurt Tyr, but the thought of Eld in this cozy little home with his brother was enough to make him seethe. The thought of Tyr’s uncle being the one to have his mother killed was almost impossible to imagine. At least not with what Quinn knew of everything. But then again… neither of them had much of a choice in things.
“Fine,” he said at last, short and clipped, although the edge in his voice was not meant for Tyr. It was just a forced resignation. “If you say you’re safe, I’ll… believe it. For now.”
He glanced back up at Tyr, still sharp with warning despite the redness in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I like it. And it doesn’t mean I trust him. And if I even think you’re not safe?” he growled, his grip on Tyr’s sleeve tight -- protective, stubborn, unwilling to let go. “I’ll drag you out myself. Eld can try to stop me.”
He’d meant it as a threat, but his voice broke on the last few words. He ducked his head to press against Tyr’s shoulder again to hide his tearful expression.
“I just-- I can’t lose you again.”
He took a moment to compose himself, scrubbed at his face with his hand, and then scowled at nowhere in particular. “How can you be so sure it was your uncle?”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:44 pm
Tyr kept his arms around Quinn. His hold was loose, perhaps because he didn’t have the strength for anything more substantial, or perhaps to allow Quinn to move as he liked. Tyr leaned close enough to make up for it, so they were pressed so tightly against one another they seemed to meld together.
He was silent for a few moments. Tyr could not decide how to answer Quinn’s question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to answer, if only because of what he might have to reveal. Perhaps Quinn had known some of it already, despite Tyr’s efforts to keep it from him. The Council had made their wishes for him no secret, even when Mother had been alive. With her death, he’d lost his only protection.
He hadn’t known it at the time.
“Eld was kind to me when we met,” he explained. The words came slowly, like he was deciding upon them as he said them. “Kinder than most. He was gentle. He treated me with respect. He wasn’t what I expected at all, after everything I’d been told. Uncle warned me to be wary of him. He said Eld wanted Ymir. He said Eld had plans to take it by force, and killing Mother was an attempt to destabilize us. He said, as Ymir’s Senshi, I should do whatever was necessary to keep Eld agreeable, so he would be satisfied with the relationship our worlds already had.
“I did what I had to,” Tyr said. His gaze went unfocused. Memories swirled within him, but he made no effort to parse through them. “With Eld, and again when another threat rose. Someone always wanted something. Resources by force, or trade agreements. Negotiations would stall, and the Council would send me to… sweeten the deal.”
Tyr blinked slowly, dry eyed but tense. His arms went rigid around Quinn, his shoulders tight. Anxious. Defensive.
“Uncle would console me after. He would apologize, and make excuses. He told me there was nothing he could do. He took Mother’s place on the Council, but he said he had no sway. He said my circumstances would improve if I obeyed. My fate was tied to Ymir’s. If Ymir prospered, so would I.
“I didn’t have anyone else.” Tyr’s voice dropped until it was little more than a whisper. “No friends. No allies. If I wanted to see you, if I wanted to see Llamrei, I had to keep the Council happy.
“Then everything fell apart.” He paused to swallow, throat threatening to close before he could finish. “Ymir was overrun by Chaos. It came without any of us realizing. We lost contact with other worlds. We were isolated. My people suffered famine and war. The King was overthrown, but another—the Usurper—came to take his place. The Council weathered it all, but they were fracturing. Plague spread and thousands died every day. Uncle became cruel. He blamed me for it. They all blamed me. They said I was corrupted. I thought they would execute me, but they forced me into stasis instead. They didn’t want to lose their Senshi. They only wanted time to find a way to remove the corruption.
“Uncle came for me,” Tyr continued—cold, emotionless. Numb. “I tried to fight him off. He put a cloth over my face. I think I realized then, as I was losing consciousness, what must have happened to my mother. I remembered all the arguments she and my uncle hid from me. I remembered how Uncle made friends among the Council before he had a seat on it. Who benefited the most from Mother’s death? Eld, or my uncle? Why would Eld target Mother and no one else? Why would he not simply target the King? Why would he not kill me when he had the chance, and take Ymir when it had no Senshi to defend it?”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:44 pm
Quinn’s stomach churned the longer Tyr spoke. He’d thought he was ready to hear the truth… any truth… but this? This was worse than anything he’d imagined. And in a horrifying way pulled into question his own experiences.
His fingers tightened around the fabric of Tyr’s sleeve, his jaw so tight it ached. He wanted to ask a hundred questions, wanted to make Tyr go through every detail until he could figure everything out. But the more Tyr spoke, the more Quinn realized they weren’t going to be easy answers. Nothing clean, anyway. Just wounds which hadn’t healed, and maybe never would.
“That’s--” His voice cracked, not so much from emotion, but from the strain of holding himself back. Rage and anger bubbled up inside him, but there was no good outlet for it, so it simmered beneath the surface. “That’s not something you just--” He cut himself off again, because Tyr didn’t need him to start yelling or getting angry. At least not right then.
Quinn sucked in a breath through his teeth, an attempt at steadying himself, but he glared at the wall across from them as though he was trying to light it on fire with his eyes.
“Your uncle is filth,” he hissed, the words like venom on his lips. “Was filth. I hope his death was slow and agonizing.” It wouldn’t have changed things, but it would make Quinn feel a little better about it.
How was he supposed to trust anyone with his brother after knowing all of that?
This time he pushed out a breath, slow and bitter. “I’m still not giving Eld a free pass in all of this. He might not have killed her-- Fine. Okay. But I’ve been around long enough to know people don’t get reputations like his by accident. Kindness can be an act, Tyr. You know that as well as I do.”
He scrubbed a hand down his face, looking both worn and furious at the same time.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” he mumbled. “But you better believe I’m going to be watching him. Closely. You’re my brother. And if anyone so much as breathes wrong in your direction, I’ll drown them.”
Whether it was an empty threat or not was yet to be seen.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:45 pm
TW for references to grooming and incest.
“Of course I know that,” Tyr said, so soft it could’ve been lost beneath the constant noise on Earth: Ice clattering in the refrigerator. The whoosh of air from the machinery which kept the room pleasantly cool even at the height of a hot, grueling summer.
Uncle had been kind to him, until he wasn’t. In his youth, Uncle had watched out for him whenever Mother was busy with Council work. It was Uncle who’d taught him music. It was Uncle who’d gifted him his first horse. My sweet Tyr, Uncle had called him. Uncle had let him sip wine at dinner when Mother only ever allowed him water. Uncle had defended him from the Council when he first became a Senshi, responding with insult and outrage when the Council asked more from him than either he or Mother thought appropriate. Uncle had comforted him when Mother had grown ill. Uncle had been at his side when she’d died—always with an arm around him, soothing him as he’d cried.
Then the consoling, the cajoling. The Our situation is precarious and I don’t know how long I can fend them off. The Do as you’re told and none of them will have cause to harm us and I’m proud of how you’ve conducted yourself. The We’ll weather this together and One day we will revenge ourselves on the one who took your mother from us. We must simply bide our time.
Always accompanied by a kiss on the forehead. A cheek. The lips.
Soft.
Chaste, at first.
Until wine made them careless and clumsy.
Tyr blinked again. He shook himself away from encroaching memory. That time was over. A thousand years separated him from Uncle, who had been nothing in the end but a callous, grasping man in a long line of callous, grasping men. He would’ve died in agony like the others, from illness or war or starvation, his body left to rot where it fell.
“I appreciate your concern,” he told Quinn without quite hearing himself. Everything had gone muffled, reality stretched thin. “But it wasn’t a lie, what I said out there. Eld is the only reason I’m still alive. When I came here, I had nothing. I had no one. I saw no point in living. I still—” Tyr forced himself to stop, to swallow the words, because they weren’t quite true any longer. “I would’ve died if he’d not been here to protect me. I wouldn't have lived long enough to learn that you live, too.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:45 pm
Quinn’s throat felt tight, like it had locked up around every question and curse he wanted to throw. Tyr’s words settled, like rocks weighing him down. Heavy and uncomfortable.
He sucked in a breath, but it didn’t do much to steady him. His grip on Tyr’s sleeve hadn’t loosened since the moment they’d sat down, and it probably wouldn’t any time soon. He needed that anchor more than he’d ever admit out loud.
“I don’t care if you think I’m being unreasonable,” he grumbled, nearly a growl. “You’ve got more patience than me, Tyr. I don’t-- I can’t just switch it off because you say he’s fine now. You say he’s kept you alive. Great. Good for him. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let my guard down.”
He finally looked up at Tyr again, but his glare had dissipated from earlier. Instead, his eyes burned, hot with tears of frustration. Of mourning.
“I thought you were gone. For good. I don’t give a damn how it happened or whose fault it was. I missed my brother,” he choked, his voice rough, betraying the strain he’d been holding back. “And I’m not losing you again because some silver tongued b*****d knows how to smile at the right time. So yeah, I’m watching him, and if he slips--” he paused, his teeth bared, mean and humorless. “You know what I’ll do.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:45 pm
Tyr inhaled slowly. Quiet, still. Nearly motionless. Like something might break if he spoke too loud or moved too much. Existence felt delicate, his time there with Quinn fragile—surreal, seconds from ending, as insubstantial as a dream he feared could never last.
How could any of this be real? How could he be so fortunate, to live and be allowed this reunion after what had become of his world? He was a failure as a Senshi. He hadn’t been able to protect his people. In the end, he hadn’t wanted to. Even now, he couldn’t muster up the will to care about what became of Ymir. Why should he? What had it ever brought him but pain and misery? His life had never been his own. It never would be. The choice to be what he was had never been his to make. Tyr was born Ymir, and he would die Ymir. He would be Ymir again in his next life. The fate of his starseed was inescapable.
He fell silent again, his gaze unfocused. Tyr knew he couldn’t tell Quinn about his pact with Eld. Quinn would never understand his willingness to give up Ymir. He would see it as proof of Eld’s ambitions. To Quinn, Eld was still the Conqueror. He would look at Tyr and see weakness. He would view it as capitulation, as defeat. Quinn wouldn’t understand the relief.
Tyr’s breath stuttered, trapping air halfway up his throat. He forced himself to exhale, then swallowed convulsively.
“How are you here?” he asked, voice so strained it nearly broke.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:45 pm
Quinn froze at the question, glancing up to stare at Tyr as he tried to process the question he was asked. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. There were words he couldn’t quite form, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the noises that tried to form, anyway.
“How do you think?” he snapped, sharper than he meant to, but his throat burned in a way that made it impossible to sound calm. “One day I was home and then--” He cut himself off, and sucked in a breath that didn’t steady him at all. His grip on Tyr’s sleeve twitched, but he didn’t let go.
“They stuffed me in a pod. Said it was safer. Said I’d wake up when it was over. I didn’t even get a choice.”
The words came faster now, pushed out before they were stuck in his throat again. “I didn’t want it, Tyr. I didn’t want to sleep through my whole damn life. But it didn’t matter what I wanted. It never mattered,” he choked, his voice breaking but he pressed harder through it, forcing the next words before he could change his mind.
“And when I woke up? Everything was gone. Frozen solid. Like my world was never anything but ice.” Quinn gave a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. Grief sharpened his words into something meaner than he intended. “So yeah, that’s how I’m here. I didn’t fight for it. I didn’t earn it. I just… woke up. And I hate it.”
His eyes burned hot, but he didn’t know if it was with despair or anger. He grit his teeth as though that was how he could hold himself together. He knew Tyr had been in stasis as well. He didn’t blame him for that. He only blamed himself for being spoiled and pampered and used all of his life, only to find out he was the only one left. Never having had the chance to try and reach out to his brother or sister before everything collapsed. And the more he thought about it, the more he resented what his life had been. The faux paradise that it was.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:46 pm
Tyr flinched minutely.
“I’m sorry,” he said, more instinct than conscious thought, because it was easier to apologize than it was to wade through any of it.
Logically, he knew Quinn’s anger wasn’t meant for him. Tyr wasn’t even sure it was anger to begin with, but the snap in Quinn’s voice and the bitterness in Quinn’s laughter stirred too many memories of conversations between tense voices, casting blame as the world around them descended into lawlessness and violence. Tyr was not a frightened or anxious person—he had endured so much he often thought of fear and worry as overreactions. He didn’t understand why either should trouble him now.
Quinn was his brother, the only family Tyr had left. Uncle was dead. Their sister was dead. Their wayward father had done little for them in life beyond introducing them to one another; there was no indication he would have survived. Mother had been gone longer than any of them, lost before Chaos came.
“I should’ve—”
What? Done more? Fought harder? He couldn’t have saved Quinn. Tyr couldn’t even save himself. In the end, power and magic hadn’t been enough. His world had fallen. Tyr had been as trapped in stasis as he had been before it. Perhaps he was trapped still, picking up the pieces of a broken life which hadn’t ever felt like his to control.
As far as Tyr could tell, they were only here now due to a cosmic fluke.
He swallowed again, too tense to go unnoticed, forcing control over his breathing. Slow. Steady. In. Out.
“Llamrei didn’t make it,” he said before emotion had the chance to seal his throat. “I’ve found her. Varuna. She was reborn.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:46 pm
Quinn went very still. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure if he’d heard Tyr correctly.
Reborn.
The word rattled around in his head. It didn’t feel right, but at the same time… hadn’t he already guessed? After everything, after a thousand years gone, it only made sense that some would be reborn. But knowing it was his sister? That was different. That was--...
His stomach churned uncomfortably and he shifted to try and settle himself.
“So that’s what this world is, then,” he muttered, low and bitter. “A cosmic dumping ground. We all just wash up here eventually, don’t we? Like broken shells on the same beach.” His mouth twisted, equal parts disgust and grief. “No wonder this place is so crowded.”
Magically, of course. His own world -- Tyr’s world -- so many others -- had been heavily populated before Chaos came. But for Senshi to be born and live anywhere that wasn’t their own world…? Wasn’t that unheard of?
He fell quiet again, and when he spoke his voice had lost the venom, leaving something that was just rough… and tired…
“...What’s she like? Varuna. Is she anything like--” He cut himself off, jaw tight as he fought back the crack in his voice. “Anything like the sister we knew?”
His grip on Tyr’s sleeve stayed tight, as if he was bracing himself against whatever the answer would be.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:46 pm
“She reminds me of her sometimes,” Tyr said.
He had expected the conversation to be difficult. Considering the topics they had to discuss, how could it be anything but? The veil had been lifted. Every dreadful, unpleasant thing about their lives prior to the end of their respective worlds seemed even more apparent on the other side of it.
What Tyr hadn’t expected was to feel so uncomfortable in his brother’s presence. He wanted to be there with Quinn, wanted to snuggle close and hear every word of what had become of his life. He wanted to keep Quinn safe and never leave him again, even if Tyr knew his ability to do either of those things was severely limited. He wanted to do whatever he could to ensure Quinn never knew a moment of pain or heartache again.
But he couldn’t shake the unease.
Maybe it was a consequence of admitting the truth. Maybe it was due to the passage of time. They hadn’t seen one another in a thousand years. They’d both spent much of that time in stasis. Maybe they’d been changed by it. Maybe they’d come out shells of themselves, unsure how to exist in their new reality.
Quinn did look a little older than Tyr remembered. He carried more anger now. It gave Quinn a strength he hadn’t had before, even at the height of his power.
Tyr felt weak and unsteady in comparison.
“She looks enough like her that if you saw her from a distance, or in a grainy photograph, you might think it was her,” Tyr explained. “Her hair is like Llamrei’s, but not her eyes. She’s not as tall as Llamrei, but she’s just as pale. She has a sort of stoicism like Llamrei did, but hers is sadder. She’s very kind, but more quiet. She cares for horses…”
Tyr closed his eyes to a brief flash of snowy mountains—Llamrei surrounded by white, with flakes glittering in her hair as she tended to a newborn foal.
He swallowed convulsively.
“Sometimes I can trick myself into believing she’s still here, that part of her still exists, that her memory is strong enough to shine through, but it seems so unkind to do so when this new Varuna has been so thoughtful and generous. She’ll want to know you, even if she isn’t our sister. She’ll want to help you, not out of obligation, but out of a genuine desire to bring you comfort.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:46 pm
Quinn’s jaw clenched as Tyr spoke. Every word felt like a weight pressing harder on his chest.
Kind. Thoughtful. Generous. Quiet.
It didn’t feel right. Not with the girl he remembered. His sister hadn’t been quiet. She had been sharp and bright, lighting up any room she entered. She’d laughed too loud, argued too stubbornly, and always, always wanted to win. She was kind to him and Tyr, but fierce and in control. Terrifying in her own right -- something she had in common with her sphere.
Quinn shook his head, like he was trying to dislodge thoughts that didn’t want to let go.
“That doesn’t sound like her,” he muttered. But then again, it wouldn’t… It wasn’t the Llamrei he knew. His lip curled, not quite a sneer but it was close. She would have hated being reborn as anything different.
Maybe that was unfair to whoever she was now. Someone parading around as Varuna who wasn’t really Varuna. His grip on Tyr’s sleeve hadn’t loosened, but it was trembling now, betraying what his voice tried to keep steady.
“I don’t care if she’s ‘generous’ or wants to know me or help me, Tyr. That’s not her. That’s some stranger. A ghost.” His throat was tight, but he tried to work around it. He felt bitter and angry and wasn’t sure why. Maybe because they’d lost so much and he didn’t have any way to get any of it back. “She’s not our sister. She’s never going to be. And I don’t know if I can look at her without wanting to scream at how unfair it all is.”
He had Tyr. Why couldn’t they have Llamrei too? He let out a shuddered breath and finally dropped his gaze. He knew he was being stubborn and harsh. But how could he not when it was the only thing he could do to protect himself? And now he had to protect Tyr, too.
“I don’t want her pity. I don’t want her help. I just want my damn sister back,” he choked on the words, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall again.
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Posted: Tue Sep 16, 2025 5:47 pm
Tyr sat still as a statue.
Quinn’s denial was like a slap to the face.
Uncle would do that: strike Tyr’s cheek with the palm of his hand, mar the place he’d once kissed so sweetly with the faint color of developing bruises. Near the end, as the numbers on the Council had dwindled and those who remained struggled to maintain power, Uncle’s softness had dwindled, too. He’d offered no more apologies, uttered no more pleas for understanding. The kindness he’d once used on Tyr gave way to cold fury and bitter aggravation. After all, Tyr had been responsible for Ymir’s suffering. If he had not been so weak, Ymir might have withstood the spread of famine and war and plague. If he had not been so wicked, Ymir might not have suffered at all.
Foolish whore. What good have you ever been to anyone?
Tyr inhaled until his lungs ached. He let the air out slowly through his nose.
“Alright,” he said.
He kept his eyes averted. His arms, already tense, stiffened to the point of discomfort. He wanted to draw away but didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to give Quinn another reason to feel frustrated or disappointed or afraid. Tyr thought he understood what must be going through Quinn’s mind, the pain which surely tore at his heart. He couldn’t add to it by putting space between them, even if a part of him wanted an escape. It was his fault to begin with. He shouldn’t have brought up Llamrei. It was too soon. They’d only just reunited. He should have let Quinn enjoy this moment, should have given him comfort instead of more misery.
Quinn was right anyway. Rhiannon wasn’t Llamrei. It wasn’t fair to any of them for Tyr to continue looking for similarities, to hold onto those fleeting glimpses in Rhiannon’s rare smiles or the gentleness with which she treated him as if they were treasured memories.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
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